Mudblood
by HorcruxesandHallows
Summary: To the rest of the Snatchers, she was just a filthy Mudblood. But to him, she was so much more.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

When Albus Dumbledore came to Poppy James' house five years ago, her parents didn't know what to say. Was it really possible that their daughter was a witch? It certainly would explain a lot. All those times when she was a baby, when she would cry and the lights would flicker; how the bus would always turn up just when she would ask for it; how she could always guess exactly the number of sweets in a jar when they took her to the fair... But a witch? A real-life witch?

Poppy was much less questioning of the situation. She was a witch, no doubt about it. She would finally fit in somewhere. She was no longer just a freak who was always making weird things happen.

But now that man, that brilliant man who had explained everything to her, had introduced her to the wonderful world of magic, was dead. Murdered. And his murderer stood before her, before the entire school, expecting to be accepted as their Headmaster.

"I don't see why we couldn't all just attack him," Poppy whispered to Ginny Weasley beside her. "There's only three of them and hundreds of us, and I'm sure McGonagall and Hagrid would be up for it."

Ginny managed a weak smile. Poppy looked back at Snape, who was murmuring something at the front of the Great Hall, but she wouldn't allow herself to listen. There was nothing that she wanted to hear from that man save an explanation, and that was about as likely as Luna Lovegood finding a bloody Nargle. Poppy saw Claire across the room and gave her a brief, inconspicuous smile. Claire smiled back, then shook her head slightly looking back at Snape.

"How is he allowed to get away with this?" Ginny whispered.

"With You-Know-Who on his side," Poppy said, "he can get away with anything."

Ginny sighed and looked at the empty space opposite her on the Gryffindor table.

"He'll be fine, Ginny," Poppy assured her. "They all will."

"Yeah," Neville chipped in from Ginny's other side. "They're invincible as long as they've got Hermione."

Ginny looked despairingly at the Head Table, at Snape and his new Death Eater buddies. "And if they don't? If they get separated from Hermione? What then?"

"You know Ron'll never let that happen," said Neville.

Snape suddenly clapped his hands, allowing the start of year feast to appear on the four Great Hall tables, but it was not the same as it always had been. The meat was dry, the potatoes burnt, and the vegetables were like cold slime. Everything had lost its appeal.

The only thing worse than the meal was the way the Death Eaters scanned the Great Hall, their eyes resting on each and every Muggle-Born present.

x x x x x

They woke her up in the early hours of the morning. Ginny Weasley shook Poppy awake as Lavender Brown stood at the end of her bed, her eyes wide with fear.

"Wake up!" Ginny hissed.

Poppy bolted upright. "What is it?" she asked, looking around the room. "What's happened?"

Ginny thrust a pile of clothes into Poppy's hands. "Get dressed," she said. "We have to get you out of here. The Carrows have already been to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. It's only a matter of time before they reach here."

"What?" Poppy rubbed her eyes. "Why?"

"They're arresting all Muggle-Borns," said Lavender. "They say they've stolen their wands from 'real' witches and wizards."

"That's ridiculous!" protested Poppy. "Of course we haven't!"

"It doesn't matter how ridiculous it is," said Ginny, pulling on Poppy's arm. "The fact is it's happening. You have to go!"

There was a small group of about eight or nine petrified children waiting downstairs. At least half of them were in their first or second year of Hogwarts. Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas, both seventh years, stood in the middle of the group. Poppy was one of the last to join, and then they left the Gryffindor Common Room silently.

They traveled in small groups of two or three, with exact instructions of where to go (Travel along the seventh floor corridor until you reach the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet). Poppy was the eldest of her group. With her came a fourth year boy and a first year girl, who cried started crying when they left the Common Room and did not stop until Poppy took her right hand and the boy took her left.

They reached the tapestry without problem, greeted there by Dean Thomas, who had left in the previous group. He pulled the tapestry aside to reveal a hidden room that he explained was the Room of Requirement, though Poppy had absolutely no idea what that meant.

The inside of the room reminded Poppy a lot of the waiting room at her Dentist's, with plain white walls, and seats and tables dotted around. The only differences being that the newspapers on these tables were the _Daily Prophet_, there were Wizard Chess sets sat on some of the tables, and there was an entrance to a tunnel at the opposite side to the door.

"Poppy!" Poppy let go of the little girl's hand and turned just in time for a blonde streak to collide with her.

"Claire!" cried Poppy. "What are you doing here? If you get caught–"

"Relax, Poppy," she said, sitting down in a seat behind herself. Poppy sat down next to her and the first year girl took the seat next to Poppy. "The Carrows have already been to Ravenclaw Tower. They're not going to notice I'm gone. Besides, you didn't think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye, did you?"

Poppy looked down at her hands in her lap. Before now, the adrenaline had stopped her from thinking about the situation, but now the tears were flowing freely from her eyes.

"Poppy?" Claire asked, putting her arm around her friend. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Poppy wiped her face and looked up at Claire. "No," she whispered.

"Then believe me when I tell you that everything is going to be okay. Some members of the Order of the Phoenix are waiting at the other side of that tunnel, waiting to Apparate you home. They've got safe-houses all over the world for you to got to. They're not going to let anything happen to you."

Poppy leant over and gave Claire a hug. "I love you, Claire."

Claire took a deep breath as tears began to fill her eyes. She blinked them away and said, "Don't be a softie. Who's your friend?"

The both looked at the little first year and Poppy felt rude for not asking her name. "Amber," the little girl mumbled, giving a long sniff. She looked petrified.

"I'm Poppy and this is Claire," she said softly.

They seemed to be waiting there for a while before Neville came for Amber. In the meantime, Claire recited The Fountain of Fair Fortune and The Tale of the Three Brothers, both of which Poppy and Amber had never heard before. It calmed them all down until it was Amber's turn to go. She hugged Poppy and then Claire before leaving.

Dean Thomas came to get Poppy soon after. She stood up with Claire and they hugged each other tightly.

"It'll be over before long," said Claire, her voice thick with tears. "We'll see each other again soon, I promise. It's going to be okay."

Poppy took a deep breath and reluctantly pulled herself away from her best friend. She knew she was only trying to make her feel better, but it was not working at all. She was going to miss Claire so much. Writing was not an option and Claire had absolutely no idea what a telephone was, never mind how to use it. This was possibly the last time they would ever see each other. Who knew how long this war would last? Who knew who was going to win?

"Bye," whispered Poppy.

Claire managed a watery smile. "See you later."

Poppy's eyes were blurred with tears as she made her way down the tunnel. Professor Lupin was waiting at the other side but she barely acknowledged him as he took her hand and together they Apparted to Poppy's home.

They landed in the living room and Poppy knew immediately that something was wrong. The house had been ransacked, anything valuable taken from its rightful place – the clock, the ornaments, the crystal glasses. Everything.

"Stay here," Lupin said quietly, his wand outstretched before him. He made his way through the living room and out into the hallway. Poppy drew her wand from inside of her jacket.

She heard Lupin gasp from the hallway and ran towards him.

"No!" he cried. "Don't come out here!"

But it was too late. She had already seen what he had not wanted her to see. There before her lay her mother and her father, their eyes wide, their mouths open in silent screams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Dead. The only things Poppy James had left, and they were dead. Taken from her, without even the chance to say goodbye. Not this. Oh God, not this. Anything but this.

Everything happened in slow motion. They did not hear him approach. The first warning that he was there was his yell of '_Stupefy_!' Lupin leapt in front of Poppy, quick even to shield her but not quick enough to shield himself. He stiffened in front of her and fell forward to the floor.

Poppy looked up at the man before her, flicking her wand without thinking and sending him flying backwards through the window. At the sound of shattering glass, two other men appeared, one on the stairs and one to Poppy's right.

All of the anger and the hurt and the pain bubbled up inside of her, and she focused all of her energy on causing the men as much pain as was possible. How dare they? How dare they come back here after what they had done?

A bright blue flame shot from Poppy's wand, hitting the man to her right square in the chest. She spun her wand around and the flame acted like a whip, wrapping around the second man's neck and dragging him across the hallway. He smashed into the wall with a bone-crushing thud and slumped down.

There was a _Pop!_ and then another, and then another. Poppy did not wait to see who it was. She threw herself between her parents and Lupin, grabbed hold of all three, and thought of Hogsmeade. She felt an uncomfortable pull on her navel as she began to Apparate, but then someone grabbed her ankle, and then her other. She kicked with all her might and heard a satisfying crunch as her foot connecting with someone's nose, but still they would not let go.

They struggled through the air until they finally landed in Hogsmeade, in front of the Three Broomsticks, the unwanted party thrown a few feet away from Poppy. She leaned across and kissed her mother and father before scrambling to her feet. There were three men before her, and although she could not see there faces, she could feel their anger, more so from the one clutching his nose.

Poppy growled and ran forward, thinking of the furthest place away from here. She closed her eyes and Apparated, thinking of Black Park Country Park, where they had once been on a camping trip. She felt three sets of hands grab a hold of her, but that was okay now; her parents bodies were safe and that was all that mattered.

They landed harshly on the outskirts of the forest, Poppy's left arm crushed beneath her as she fell. She pushed herself up with her other arm and staggered towards the trees, her head spinning. She heard them follow behind but it seemed as if all her energy had gone to her legs, and they pushed her forward with unexpected speed.

The forest was dark, almost pitch black had it not been for the light of the hexes being sent in her direction. One narrowly missed her head, others were poorly aimed and were either too far forward or too far back. Poppy was surrounded by these men, one to her left, one to her right, and one just metres behind her, and her arm was throbbing making it hard to concentrate on what she was doing.

She could see an opening before her and ran for it, dodging the trees as she went, but her foot caught in a tree root and she was thrown forward into the dirt, further crushing her arm. The man behind her took his chance, leaping for her with an inhuman grace, but he was not quick enough to block Poppy's spell, which threw him sideways and into a tree, causing him to drop his wand in the process. That gave Poppy an idea.

The other two men were making a bee-line for Poppy, but she dragged herself up, cursing loudly at the pain in her arm, and turned back in the direction that she was running. A hex was sent towards Poppy from her right, giving her a good idea of the direction of one of the men. She pointed her wand towards him and yelled _"Expelliarmus!"_ Hearing him curse, she saw his wand fly into the air. Poppy pointed her own at it and cried _"Bombarda!"_ watching as it shattered into a thousand pieces.

To her right, Poppy could see the faint outline of the final armed man in the chase. She pointed her wand at him, aimed... but before she could fire, she was hit hard in the back. The wind was knocked right out of her and her wand was thrown into the darkness.

The man flipped her onto her back and crouched over her, his face only inches from her own. Close up, Poppy could see his matted mane, his facial hair that stuck out like whiskers, his yellow, pointed teeth, all of which adding to his beastly appearance. He growled down at Poppy, his rancid breath in her face.

He smirked. "You know," he snarled, "I do like little girls."

"Greyback!" roared a voice. One of the men arrived and pulled the fighting brute off Poppy. "Calm down, will you? She ain't worth nothin' dead, is she?"

Greyback shook the man off just as the final one arrived, bringing with him the light of his wand.

"Get off me, Scabior!" Greyback yelled. "I ain't an idiot!"

"Well you don' 'alf act like one," muttered Scabior. He was no longer clutching his nose, but Poppy could see blood caked onto his face.

Greyback knelt down beside Poppy, who flinched away from his cold stare. "She's a feisty one, ain't she?" he growled. "I bet the Ministry'll give us a load of gold for this one. What do you think, Moran?"

"I reckon we should kill 'er now," replied the man named Moran, spitting viciously at the ground beside Poppy.

She squirmed on the floor, her arm twinging painfully. It was definitely broken. She watched Moran's wand as the three men argued over whether to kill her or take her to the Ministry. Moran was incredibly happy just to kill Poppy there and then, Scabior wanted to sell her to the Ministry for gold (although Poppy was still unsure as to why the Ministry would want to buy her) and it seemed that Greyback had more than just an animal appearance – he spoke at least twice of his desire to _bite_ Poppy. She thought that Greyback was a Werewolf or maybe an Animagus, but as far as she knew, there was no way to stay half-way between animal and human.

Finally, when Poppy thought she might pass out from the pain, they decided that they would take her to the Ministry. They needed the gold. Scabior dragged Poppy to her feet by the scruff of her neck as Moran prepared to Apparate.

But nothing happened.

"What d'you do?" asked Scabior.

"Just thought of the Ministry, didn't I?" said Moran angrily.

"Well you didn't do it properly, did you?" yelled Greyback, snatching Moran's wand. He looked at it closely, and then slapped Moran around the head. "Idiot! This ain't your wand!"

"Course it ain't my wand!" he shouted. "It's Yasper's, ain't it? I dropped mine at 'er house."

Greyback went to slap Moran again but he ducked out of the way. He looked to Scabior. "Where's yours?"

"She broke it!" he hissed. Scabior shook Poppy hard, making her wince.

Greyback growled loudly and clouted Moran again in frustration. "Idiot!" he screamed again. "IDIOT!"

"Calm down, Greyback!" Scabior cried.

"What?" said Moran.

"You can't Apparate on someone else's wand unless it don't belong to 'em no more!" hissed Scabior. "We'll just have to walk there. We can't be that far. Where are we anyway?" He shook Poppy again but she didn't answer her.

"We're in a forest," offered Moran.

Greyback rolled his eyes and pointed his wand at him. "_Stupefy_," he yelled. "We'll head in that way. I can smell people that way."

"We just gunna leave 'im there?" Scabior asked about Moran as the began dragging Poppy forward.

"_Enervate_," he said, not looking back to see if Moran had woken up.

Poppy closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

_**For H.R.E.R, scabiorxxx, and InkWeaverabc**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

The morning sun filtered through the tree tops, illuminating the forest with an auburn glow. They had been walking for a few hours, although it felt like days to Poppy. The clearing that she had seen up ahead had turned out to be nothing more then a short opening between one grove and another.

Poppy couldn't concentrate properly. Her mind flitted erratically between not tripping up, not getting killed and not falling asleep. The only thing keeping her conscious was the pain in her arm, but she daren't do anything about that. She hoped that if it was broken, it could heal without the use of magic or plaster. It was unusually hot for September and the shade barely did anything to assuage the heat. Poppy was tired, hungry and aching all over. She was comforted slightly by the fact that the men, now fully visible in the daylight, were also dragging their feet.

The first man, Greyback, was hardly a man at all. Poppy was not sure what he was exactly, but his matted grey hair, whiskers, pointed teeth and long, yellow nails all combined to create a very animalistic appearance. She was sure that the other two men were men. Scabior, who held onto Poppy's good arm, was tall with long, matted brown hair with a red streak to one side. Moran was the shortest of the three, and also the skinniest. He was a thin, gaunt man, with a tendency to walk with his mouth open, which made him look quite simple.

"'Ere, Greyback," said Moran, stopping and scratching his head. "I reckon we passed this tree before. You don't know where you're goin', do you?"

Greyback growled in warning. "Of course I know!" he said, sniffing the air. He paused, then turned and sniffed again.

"You can't smell people no more, can you?" asked Scabior, letting go of Poppy so he could sit down on the grass.

Greyback turned the wand on Poppy. "_You_," he spat. "You brought us here. Where are we?"

Poppy took a step back. Scabior stood up and grabbed her arm. "Jus' tell us where you've taken us," he said, "an' we won't hurt you."

"Shut it, Scabior!" Greyback hissed, lunging for Poppy. He grabbed the front of her jacket and shook her hard. "Where've you taken us, you filthy Mudblood? Where? _Where are we?_"

Poppy yelped as her broken arm shook violently, but refused to say anything. Greyback shoved her back onto the ground and raised his wand.

"_Crucio_!"

It was a pain like Poppy never thought possible. It was as if a thousand hot knives were attacking her insides. The pain was so intense. It was everywhere – inside and outside her body – even in her mind, threatening to drive her insane.

Her body writhed and thrashed on the ground in front of the three men. She was only vaguely aware of someone shouting "Enough! She's 'ad enough!" but Poppy passed out before she could register that she was grateful.

x x x x x

Fire. There was fire. She could smell the smoke, feel it attacking her lungs. Poppy bolted upright and sucked in a deep breath, ready to start screaming at the top of her lungs, but saw that it was just a camp-fire.

Memories of the previous day came flooding back and tears filled her eyes for the first time since she had found her parents dead.

Poppy sat in silence for a few minutes before wiping her face with the back of her sleeve – and was surprised to find that her arm no longer hurt her. It wasn't broken any more.

She heard movement behind her and saw Scabior sat there, just watching her. Poppy shivered at the way his pale blue eyes stared at her. She lay back down and tried to sleep, ignoring the waves of panic that she was experiencing at the idea of being unconscious whilst Scabior was not.

She awoke to the smell of dying embers. She rolled over on the hard ground and groaned at the discomfort in her body. Scabior lay seemingly asleep a few feet from her head and Moran lay equally still at her feet. There was no sign of Greyback.

Poppy leaned up on her elbows and looked around the surrounding trees. She listened. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear. Poppy shifted her weight onto her knees and slowly raised herself into a crouch. She waited for a second, considering the best direction in which to run, then pushed off on her feet and headed straight, her arms and legs pumping.

He came from nowhere; a soundless blur that collided straight into Poppy, pinning her to a tree. Greyback's hand closed around neck, crushing the air out of her. She struggled beneath him, her hands clawing at his, her legs kicking helplessly a few off the ground. She could not compete with his strength. She was slowly suffocating. Her lungs were burning, screaming out for oxygen, and the edges of her vision were slowly getting darker and darker.

There was a bang as a jinx hit Greyback's arm, narrowly missing Poppy' face. She was dropped to the floor and landed roughly on her knees, coughing and panting, dragging in as much oxygen as was possible.

"What you playin' at?" Scabior yelled at Greyback. "She ain't no use to us dead!"

Greyback growled and shrugged his shoulders. "Shouldn't have been running off then, should she?"

Scabior watched Poppy in silence until she stopped coughing and leant back against the tree, her throat burning and her breathing heavy, and then said, "We 'ave to move. We don't want any Snatchers finding us. They won't be as slow when it comes to killing us."

He pulled Poppy's arm and hauled her to her feet, holding her steady. Her head spun violently. She gripped onto Scabior's arm as she bent over and took deep breaths, her head between her knees.

Scabior looked down at her, his face expressionless. "If you're gunna be sick," he said, "aim it away from me."

Poppy groaned. "Just give me a minute," she croaked, letting go of Scabior to sit down. She breathed in deeply through her nose, the acidic feeling of bile rising in her throat. Moran passed her an animal skin filled with water, and she took it gratefully, gulping down the lukewarm water, ignoring the pain in her throat.

Scabior snatched it away before she could finish it. "Watch it!" he hissed. "We ain't got a river, you know."

She regretted drinking so much water immediately. Her stomach heaved, refusing to hold the tepid water, and it came gushing back through her lips, followed by a mouthful of bile, further burning her throat.

She looked to the skin hovering beside her. "I need..." she started. Scabior cautiously passed it to her and Poppy took a quick swig, rinsed it around her mouth and spat it into the grass beside her.

Greyback rolled his eyes. "Are we going, or what?"

Poppy slowly got to her feet and suppressed the urge to flinch as Scabior took hold of her arm. As much as he disgusted her, at that moment he was the only thing keeping her standing.

_**For 33, forbiddenluv, H.R.E.R, scabiorxxx, and LizziePixie-Aiko.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Poppy was lightheaded, but she was unsure as to whether that was due to thirst, hunger, exhaustion or the fact that she had almost been strangled to death. She put it down to a mixture of all four.

They carried walking until late afternoon, when they found a sign revealing their location.

"Black Park Country Park?" Greyback read aloud. "Where the Hell is that?"

"Ain't we near Malumbria?" asked Moran. "If we was to 'ead in a Northwards direction-"

"I ain't no Geography teacher, idiot!" Greyback hissed. "None of us even know which way North is!"

Poppy sat down as the they argued about which way was North. She had no idea what Malumbria was, but she wished that they would just hurry up and sell her to the Ministry. She had heard awful stories about Azkaban, but none of them involved prisoners dying of starvation.

Finally, Scabior had the sense to perform a Four-Point spell with the wand, confirming the direction North. Malumbria, Moran had said, was a village, which gave Poppy the tiniest bit of hope. A village meant people, people meant help. She walked awkwardly between Scabior and Moran, neither of whom spoke. The only sounds were those of muffled footsteps and the occasional rumbling of Poppy's stomach. At least the nausea and dizziness had past.

They stopped after a few hours. Greyback pointed to a steep hill in front of them. "Malumbria's just over there," he said. "Just make sure you come find me _before_ the Portkey is about to leave." He looked pointedly at Moran. "And make it for tomorrow morning, will you? I can't be responsible for my actions if I have to deal with that Umbridge woman when I'm tired." Then he loped off and disappeared into the trees.

Umbridge? Poppy thought. As in, _Dolores_?

Scabior and Moran sat opposite Poppy.

"What do we do with 'er?" Moran asked.

"We'll separate," said Scabior. "You go on your own, and she'll come with me."

"Why can't she come with me?"

"Because you're an idiot," Scabior replied simply, "and you'll mess things up. Besides, you ain't no good at lying. They'll figure you out in a minute, an' I don't fancy getting' my throat slit whilst I'm asleep. So she's comin' with me."

Poppy's eyes grew wide but she kept them fixed on the ground before her. She had been optimistic about Malumbria, but now that was gone. There was no chance of help in a place that even Greyback would not enter.

"You gunna tell 'em she's your sister?" asked Moran.

"Don't be daft," said Scabior, looking Poppy up and down. "She don't look nothin' like me. She's my wife."

Poppy blanched. _Wife_?

Her stomach rumbled angrily. She swore she saw the corners of Scabior's lips twitch upwards. He stood up and pulled the wand out of his jacket.

"Get going then," he said. "You can eat when we get to Malumbria."

Poppy understood immediately why Greyback chose not to come to Malumbria. For there, upon the threshold, was a sign which read:

_No Mudbloods_

_No Half-Breeds_

_No Squibs_

_No Muggles_

_Prohibited On Pain Of Death_

It was as though there was an invisible veil placed around the village. All the sunlight vanished, replaced by a gloomy darkness. The people were very shady-looking, with unwelcoming expressions on their faces. Poppy stuck close to Scabior and tried not to make eye-contact with anyone.

He took her to a dressmaker's first, to buy her 'wizard clothing'. He picked up the first dress he saw and sent her to be fitted. It was black, as was everything in the shop, and it had a rather restricting corset around the middle, with an uncomfortable netting lining the underskirt.

He paid the dressmaker with a handful of silver coins, then led Poppy to a tavern opposite, _The Empty Goblet_. It was like something out of a bad cowboy film – all movement and chatter stopped abruptly when Scabior and Poppy entered. All heads turned in their direction. Scabior pretended not to notice and strode forward into the bar, Poppy nervously shuffling along beside him. He sat down on a bar stool and Poppy did the same.

"I'll 'ave a beer," said Scabior.

"Right you are," said the Bartender. He picked up a tankard and began filling it with a dirty orange liquid. "Ain't seen you around here before. Lookin' for someone?"

Scabior shook his head. "My wife and I are just passin' through. We been to visit my sister-in-law."

"That so?"

"She 'ad a baby."

"Congratulations," the bartender said, passing Scabior his beer. The rest of the tavern seemed to lose interest after Scabior's acceptable explanation, and the noise returned to a normal level. The barman looked at Poppy expectantly. "Well?"

Poppy looked at Scabior, unsure of whether she was allowed to say anything.

"She don't drink," Scabior said quickly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Where'd you say you come from?"

"We-"

The bartender cut Scabior off. "I were askin' 'er," he said, nodding at Poppy.

"She don't talk much," murmured Scabior, taking a sip of beer.

The man sneered. "You ought to beat that out of her," he murmured. "Ain't good manners."

x x x x x

Poppy was given some watery soup, which she ate without complaint. She thought it best not to ask what was in it. It tasted like dishwater, with the odd vegetable in it, but it was food nonetheless, and she wasn't exactly in a position to be fussy.

They met Moran at the local inn, where he and Scabior drank until they could barely make it up the stairs to their rooms. Poppy was to share with Scabior. He waited until Moran had collapsed into his room before pushing Poppy into their own and locking the door behind him.

Scabior swayed on the spot, looking with unfocused eyes at the girl before him. He took a step forward and she took one back. He laughed and lunged forward, grabbing Poppy by the shoulders and pinning her against the wall. She struggled against him but couldn't get him to let go. He fought with her, smiling, laughing, enjoying every moment of it.

"Do I disgust you?" he slurred, leering down at her.

"Get off me!" Poppy cried, giving him a hard shove. She pushed him back far enough for her to be able to bring her fist up to his chin. He staggered backwards a few steps. Poppy made a break for the door, but she was not quick enough. He caught her before she could move a few feet, catching hold of the front of her dress. He brought his hand up and Poppy closed her eyes, bracing herself for the blow.

But it never came. Poppy opened her eyes. Scabior blinked as if he was unsure as to what he was doing. He lowered his hand and dropped Poppy. Then he moved over to the bed and threw her a pillow.

"You sleep on the floor tonight."

_**For scabiorxxx, TheDarkAbyssTheyCallMyMind, and forbiddenluv.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Poppy rolled over on the hard floor and sat up. A faint morning light was seeping in through the cracks in the curtains, making the room just about visible. She could see Scabior sprawled across the bed, his head buried in the pillows and his feet hanging over the opposite side.

A breeze blew in through the half-open window, shifting the curtains slightly and allowing the light to fill Scabior's side of the room for just a second. A small metal object glinted on the bedside table. A key.

Poppy shuffled onto all fours and slowly crawled across the wooden floor, conscious of the fact that Scabior could awaken any minute. She stopped suddenly as he rolled over onto his back, letting out a loud snore as he did. Poppy giggled. She wasn't quite sure why she had found that so hilarious. Perhaps she was losing her mind?

Composing herself, Poppy reached the table and slowly lifted her hand. She couldn't actually see the tabletop, which made it all the more difficult. If she wasn't so dehydrated there might have been sweat beads dripping from her forehead. As her hand fumbled around on that table, Poppy almost succeeded in knocking over a lamp and then a glass of water, neither of which would have been very beneficial. Finally, just as Poppy thought her arm might fall off, her hand felt something cold and distinctly key-like. She picked it up.

_Bang!_

Poppy dropped to the floor, the key falling from her hand. Something was at the window. Scabior jumped up from his sleep, immediately noticing Poppy on the floor searching for the key. She found it under the table and snatched it up, running for the door. Even in his sluggish state, Scabior was still too quick for Poppy. He reached her just as she put the key in the door, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back to him.

"No!" she screamed. She could smell the stale alcohol on his breath as he smiled behind her. It seemed as though the more she struggled, the more fun he got out of it.

He laughed as Poppy squirmed in his arms, thrashing her arms and legs and begging to be put down. But Scabior did not want to put her down.

There came another _Bang!_ on the window, one which Scabior was not expecting. His grip temporarily loosened on Poppy, and she brought her elbow down into his stomach, turning around and bringing her fist up to his face yet again. Before now, Poppy had never been in a fight before, never had to use violence, but now that she started, she found herself unable to stop. Her punches rained down on Scabior, who, in his half-drunken state, was too slow to stop her. He soon regained his senses though, grabbing Poppy by the wrists and slamming her against the wall hard. She fought with him, never wanting to accept defeat. She kneed him unmercifully where she knew it must hurt, but Scabior's reaction time had improved as he had become more and more conscious, and it took him less than a second to recover and slap Poppy angrily across the face with the back of his hand, sending her into a near-by cabinet. He dragged her back by the hair, but was interrupted by yet another _Bang!_ He hissed and spat blood out of his mouth, throwing Poppy to the floor.

He crossed the room in two strides, pulling open the curtain with such force that it was ripped from its pole. He reached out of the window and grabbed hold of a small, feathered object, shaking it forcefully.

"What the bloody 'ell do you want?" he growled, blood trickling down the side of his mouth. The owl bit his hand, creating a small gash there, and Scabior let it go. It flew out of the window, dropping a letter on its way out.

Scabior wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and picked the letter up. Poppy felt her own mouth and discovered a hot liquid there. She wiped the blood off with her sleeve. Scabior looked at her small frame sat shaking on the floor and something flashed in his eyes. Something almost like remorse. Almost.

"Should know better than to disturb a man's sleep," he grumbled.

Poppy felt like crying, but what good would that do? It would probably just irritate him further. She slowly got up off the floor and crossed to the bathroom. Scabior blocked her way, gently holding on to her arm.

"Calm down," he said as Poppy flinched away from him. "Is anything broken?"

Poppy shook her head, never meeting his eyes. He let her go and moved aside to let her into the bathroom, where she was able to lock the door. It felt like heaven in that dingy, cramped bathroom. It was pitiful, but there was running water. The water wasn't particularly warm, but it was clean and that was all that mattered to Poppy.

Moran turned up a few minutes later, along with another man, to see what all the noise had been about. They laughed when they saw Scabior's bruises. They said that they hoped he had given her what she deserved. Scabior said he had and they laughed again.

The man was Greyback, disguised using Polyjuice Potion for obvious reasons. Who he had taken the DNA from, Poppy was unsure, but Greyback told Scabior that he was 'no longer with us'.

When Poppy finally emerged from the bathroom, Greyback seemed disappointed to see that she had only a cut lip, but he soon got over it and moved over to her, touching her face with his disgusting yellow nails.

"Like it rough, do you?" he whispered, a faint smile on his lips.

Poppy sneered at him. Scabior rolled his eyes and threw the letter at Poppy, telling her to read it. Poppy reluctantly opened it and read aloud:

"_Dear Mr. Scabior, _

_We regret to inform you that your House-Elf, Billow, has been attained, and incarcerated, by St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. We would not usually have interfered in matters involving such creatures, but it is our belief that, had we not, Billow the House-Elf would have been a danger to not only himself, but to others around him. Should you wish to appeal against this incarceration, please contact St. Mungo's directly. _

_Kind Regards, Madame Pewter, Hospital Matron."_

Scabior turned and glared at Moran. "You bleedin' idiot!" he hissed. "What d'you buy a bloody mad House-Elf for?"

Moran held up his hands. "I didn't know it were mad, did I? They said it were just a bit daft!"

Greyback sat down on a chair, cocking his leg over one of the arm-rests. He saw Poppy looking and patted his leg, gesturing for her to have a seat. She felt her insides squirm at the idea of being close to him.

"Should of known," Scabior was muttering. "All it ever did were make bloody potions down in the basement. I told you summat weren't right with it!"

He sat down on the bed and Moran leaned back against the wall.

"We can get another, Scabior," Moran said slowly, as if he was scared that Scabior might suddenly explode. "It ain't that bad. They don't cost that much, an' we'll 'ave money when we sell 'er."

Scabior looked up at Poppy, a sudden realization spreading across his face. He smiled a wicked smile and stood up. He strolled across to Poppy and stroked her hair. She pulled away from him but he grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her closer.

"How's your cookin'?" he asked.

_**For scabiorxxx, forbiddenluv and LizziePixie-Aiko.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

Greyback was the most reluctant. Perhaps reluctant is the wrong word. Reluctance is when a child does not wish to visit the dentist, or when a dog does not want to return to its owner after the temporary freedom of being let off its lead. Although it was true that Greyback was distinctly dog-like, his 'reluctance' was much more than a childish tantrum. He wanted Poppy, wanted her with every bone in his body, like a fire in desperate need of extinguishing. He did not want to keep her for his pet, have her in his home, watching her every day. Knowing that he could never touch her, never taste her blood.

Moran went along with it. Of course he did. He went along with everything that Scabior said, like he was a child frightened of his strict father.

Poppy had no say in the matter, which was hardly surprising. This was no democracy. No-one was going to ask the filthy Mudblood if she wanted to come and work as a House-Elf or not.

The House of Scabior had no family motto. Nobody had bothered to label it as noble or loyal or any of that other rubbish that Pureblood families called themselves. Poppy suspected that the House of Scabior was not a grand one at all, as Scabior had loudly boasted as they marched her up the drive, but one stolen from someone else.

Scabior had been right about the potion-making. The basement was filled with numerous strange-coloured potions, along with various ingredients including animal body-parts. Bat's blood, rat's spleen, frog's legs (_remember to add salt_), narwhal horn, dragon scales…. He had checked all the potions himself, Scabior told Poppy (ain't nothin' worth no money and ain't nothin' what's gunna kill us), so he hadn't bothered moving them. He had, however, removed the cauldron so that no more potions could be made.

Poppy was to sleep in the basement. It was to become her home. A dingy, damp, cold pit with nothing but reeking potions and a dirty mattress on the floor that had previously been slept on by an unhinged House-Elf.

As Poppy curled up that night in the furthest corner from that mattress, she wished they had just sent her to Azkaban. At least then she had a chance of losing her mind. Here, she had to face whatever they threw at her – and she had to remember it for the rest of her life, however long that may be.

x x x x x

Poppy woke up in the early hours of the next morning and was more than a little confused to find a pillow under her face and a blanket over her body. She had no idea what time it was, but she could see the faint glows of sunlight through the tiny basement window. She got up, unable to sleep any longer, and paced around the room.

How could they not have seen it? House-Elf had always been known for their eccentricity, but Poppy had never heard of one drawing pictures on the wall before in their own blood. A family, a human family, was drawn on the wall in what Poppy was sure was Billow's blood. She shouldn't have been so surprised. It seemed as though almost everything Scabior had – his house, his House-Elf, his Mudblood – were all taken by force.

Poppy sat in the shadows for a while until footsteps could finally be heard overhead, crossing over the basement ceiling and stopping at the door to turn the key in the lock. Black, mud-encrusted boots descended the stairs and Poppy watched them from the floor, refusing to look Scabior in the eye.

"Get up then," he ordered. "Kitchen needs cleaning."

She followed him simply because of an unavoidable natural function. Scabior thankfully showed her to the bathroom first, handing her a scummy towel that would probably have had opposite the desired affect if she used it after washing.

Then he showed her the kitchen. Poppy gawked. It was filthy, and not just in an odd bit of dust kind of way, but in a blackened, cockroach swarmed sort of way that carries more diseases than dogs can carry fleas. How could they not have noticed this?

As if reading her mind, Scabior quickly said, "Don' come in 'ere much," as if that somehow made it better. "It's for women and house-elves, ain' it? Besides, we don' stay 'ere often. We get jobs done quicker if we use tents."

He showed her a closet just outside the kitchen, filled with various cleaning equipment (a mop, a broom, bleach, etc.) and told her they expected her to clean the entire house by the time he, Greyback and Moran returned from buying wands ("seein' as how you broke me other") and other supplies.

They left ten minutes later, warning her not to try and escape, and that was of course the first thing she had tried to do. The windows were all locked and protected by charms so that even chairs could not break them. The doors were also locked, but their charms were much more painful for Poppy in a physical sense, burning the skin from her fingertips and the palm of her hand as she touched the handle.

She had sat on the floor cradling her hand for a while, thinking about what her mum would have done in this situation. She would have gasped and made such a big fuss. She would have wanted to kiss it better, for what use was medicine when a kiss had such great healing powers? Then she would have wrapped her hand in a towel full of ice. But this was a wizarding house. There was no freezer, no need for ice or any other muggle conveniences.

Poppy had to make do with holding her hand under the cold tap for several minutes, screaming through gritted teeth as the ice cold liquid hit her newly-formed blisters. She found an old rag and soaked it in soapy water for a while to clean it, then ripped it into strips using her teeth and then soaked it in diluted vinegar. They stung like Hell when she put them on, but there was no other alternative.

The kitchen was first to be cleaned. It was disgusting. She didn't even have a name for some of the creatures living in there, but they were mostly creepy, crawly insects. They ranged from fury, mice-like pests to some which looked like incredibly large and hairy spiders. Poppy held her breath and scraped them into buckets of bleach-water. She knew it was inhumane, but she couldn't open the doors or windows to let them out and she certainly did not have time to chase them from room to room.

The cupboards were bare except from a bottle of vinegar, used by Poppy on her bandages; a box of crackers, which she ate gratefully, reasoning with herself that crackers never run out; a few tins of beans well past their sell-by date; and a few pots and pans.

By the time she had finished, the kitchen was unrecognisable. The overpowering odour of bleach hung heavily around the room. Her knees were sore from scrubbing the floor, the blisters on her hands had most certainly burst from the friction of the brush, and her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The dining room was next (mainly clean despite a few crumbs under the table and the odd cobweb), then the living room (in which Poppy simply turned over the cushions on the sofa and dusted away the cobwebs) then the drawing room. Poppy spent the next five or so minutes, in order to get her mind off the pain of her hand, wondering why the drawing room was called a drawing room when nobody ever did any drawing in it.

Upstairs, there were four bedrooms (change the sheets, light dusting, generous spray of air-freshener, particularly in Greyback's), two bathrooms (bleach baths, sinks and toilets, as well as more dusting), a library (much dusting needed, but Poppy was not surprised to notice that the dust had fallen around the books. Clearly they had not been well-used, if used at all), and a portrait room (no cleaning done in there as Poppy was forced to leave after disgraceful abuse from the portraits).

Poppy lay down on the floor of the upstairs hallway and closed her eyes, her shoulders aching from the vigorous dusting. The only thing preventing her from sleeping was the repulsive smell of bleach.

They came home with new wands and bags of food. Moran noticed Poppy's hand almost immediately and smirked, with a look that said _I told you so_. Nobody mentioned how clean the house was, though she knew they could smell it.

Scabior followed Poppy into the kitchen, waiting until Greyback and Moran were upstairs with their bottles of Firewhiskey before grabbing hold of Poppy's wrist. He barely got a look of her bandaged hand before she snatched it away.

"Let me look," he said.

"Piss off," she snapped, opening a cupboard door to put away the remaining Firewhiskey. "Don't you have some village to terrorise?" She slammed the door shut hard with her hurt hand and hissed. If her blisters were not burst before, there were now. Scabior tried to catch her arm again but she flinched away from him.

"Stay away from me," she spat.

Scabior stood still and gritted his teeth. "Sit down," he said clearly. When Poppy simply glared at him from across the room, he yelled, "_Sit down_!" in such a voice that Poppy was too afraid to do anything else.

He took her arm roughly but gently rolled up her sleeve and began peeling away the vinegar-soaked rags. Poppy ground her teeth together and clamped her knees shut to stop herself from kicking Scabior in reflex. Not only was he removing the bandages, but layers of Poppy's skin too.

He made a strange noise when he had removed them all, but Poppy couldn't quite tell if it was amusement or sympathy. She daren't open her eyes and look for herself. She could feel the moisture. She knew it was blood. She did not need to see it.

"_Excuro Sano,_" Scabior said softly.

Poppy opened her eyes. The pain was gone, as were the burns. She pulled her hand out of Scabior's and stood up, giving him a faint nod of thanks.

_**For scabiorxxx, forbiddenluv, Gossamer Silverweb, and Xxsweet-venom-kissxX.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

The days turned into weeks and before she knew it Poppy had already been at that wretched house for a whole month. She avoided any form of contact with any of the snatchers, but that was easier said than done when they, particularly Moran, went out their way to torment her. It was worse when they drank. When drunk, Moran would throw things and yell obscenities at her, and always, without fail, try to grope her. Greyback did not need drink to be so viscous. He delighted in attacking Poppy, both verbally and physically. Scabior drank much less than the other two, but whenever he did, he would come looking for Poppy. She lost count of the numerous dark corners and cupboards that she had had to hide in.

The nights were a new-found torture. She couldn't bring herself to sleep on that old mattress, even though she had scrubbed it clean and changed the sheets, and the floor was not exactly the most comfortable of places. During the day, cleaning and cooking were enough to distract Poppy, but the nights brought no escape. She had violent dreams from which she would wake up screaming and sweating profusely. They all involved Greyback.

Still, every morning she would awake at six o'clock when a magical alarm was set to go off and the door to the basement would be unlocked, and she would make breakfast in time for the snatchers to wake up. Then she would prepare the evening meal, clean the house or wash their clothes if it was needed, and wait for them to return home. She never asked what it was that they did all day. She didn't want to know.

One day, thirty days into her captivity (she had scratched a tally into the wall beside her pillow), Greyback requested that she make beef casserole for dinner. He had cornered her in the kitchen, stroking her arm in such a way that Poppy felt close to vomiting, and told her that he was in desperate need of meat but seeing as how she wasn't available...

She had made it like the good little Mudblood that she was, imagining vividly Greyback's unnatural, grotesque face as she angrily chopped the meat. She had served it with roast potatoes and vegetables, just as Greyback had told her to, but he simply stared down at the plate as Scabior and Moran dug into their own like starving animals.

"What is this?" he asked, picking up a spoonful of the casserole and then watching it slop back onto the plate. Scabior and Moran stopped eating and stared at Greyback.

"It's beef casserole," Poppy said quietly.

"Doesn't look like what Billow used to make," he said, poking a piece of meat with his spoon.

"Well, I'm not Billow, am I?" she said sourly.

Greyback dropped the spoon onto the plate, causing flecks of gravy to splatter onto the table. "Am I, _what_?"

Poppy frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You seem to be missing something from the end of your sentence." He smiled across at Moran and Scabior.

"I- I don't understand," she murmured. She knew what he wanted, but she would never say it willingly.

"You," Greyback spat, "are a filthy, disgusting Mudblood. Do you understand that?"

Poppy stuck her chin up as she uttered the words, "No, I do not."

Greyback leapt from his chair with animalistic grace, reaching Poppy in less than a second. His fist hit Poppy in her left cheek, knocking her to the ground. He dragged her up onto her knees by her pony-tail and shook her. Poppy whimpered.

"What are you?" Greyback yelled. "WHAT ARE YOU?"

Poppy could feel her eyes welling up but she blinked the tears away. She would never let him see her tears. She sucked in a deep breath and whispered, "Mudblood."

"I can't hear you," Moran said sarcastically from beside Greyback, a look of idiotic glee on his face. Scabior had remained at the table staring down at his plate.

"Say it again," Greyback growled, yanking at Poppy's hair. "Louder!"

"Mudblood!" she cried.

"What kind of Mudblood?"

Poppy clamped her mouth shut but Greyback wrapped his hand around her arm and sunk his dirty nails in.

"A filthy, disgusting Mudblood!" she screamed.

"A filthy, disgusting Mudblood, _what_?" Moran said slowly.

"_Sir_," hissed Poppy. "A filthy, disgusting Mudblood, _sir_."

Greyback let her go. "Get out," he said.

Poppy scrambled to her feet and threw herself through the door, running straight for the basement. She slammed the door behind her and sat down in front of it. Bringing her knees up to her chin, Poppy wept, silently swearing revenge. One day, she was going to kill Greyback. And she was going to enjoy it.

_**For scabiorxxx and GossamerSilverweb.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

It had always been a tradition for Poppy to have a bacon sandwich for breakfast on her birthday. She would abstain from them for the remainder of the year, partly because she knew they were unhealthy (one of the side-effects of having a dietician for a mother), but also because it made her birthday morning treat all the more special.

That morning there were no bacon sandwiches. No presents, no balloons, no singing. Nobody there even knew that on October 16th 1997, Poppy James turned seventeen for the first and only time.

Poppy awoke that morning earlier than usual, before the sun was even visible outside. She sat back against the wall, closed her eyes and smiled, imagining the tastes of bacon, bread and brown sauce in her mouth. She could hear her parents in their not-so-harmonious rendition of 'Happy Birthday'. They liked to make a fuss, hanging balloons and banners around the room, surrounding her pile of presents. After all, she was their only daughter.

Her chest was aching, her throat burning and her eyes swollen by the time six o'clock came. Poppy rubbed the tears off her cheek with the back of her hand, then grabbed a clean dress and headed for the upstairs bathroom.

Scabior sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in his hands. He was examining it closely when Poppy came in, and didn't notice she was there until the pans that she was pulling out of the cupboard began making noise. He noticed her face as she turned to place them on the stove and raised an eyebrow.

"What 'appened to you?" he asked.

Poppy tensed, wondering if she really looked as bad as his tone suggested. She didn't answer him.

"Good mornin', Scabior," he said sarcastically as Poppy filled the kettle up in the sink. "I see you've made your own cuppa this mornin'. That were good of you."

Poppy slammed the kettle down and gripped the sideboard so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Was he deliberately trying to annoy her?

"You makin' eggs?" Scabior asked. "Ain't 'ad eggs in a while."

She began cracking eggs in the frying pan, refusing to even acknowledge Scabior's presence. With them, she added butter, milk, bacon, mushrooms and tomatoes. She didn't know what it tasted like, nor did she care. If it tasted like shit, it tasted like shit. She wasn't eating it. The finished product reminded Poppy a lot of the pig slop that she had once seen on a field trip to a farm in primary school, but if the way Scabior was scoffing it down whilst she neatly nibbled on a piece of toast was any indication, she reckoned it didn't taste half as bad as she thought it might.

There wasn't much to do, but Poppy was most definitely grateful for that. The less she had to do, the less the Snatchers would provide her with advice on how to do it 'properly'. The free time gave Poppy chance to look through the potion vials that were down in the basement, as she hadn't thought much about them since she got there – what use were potions to her if they couldn't cause any harm?

There were hundreds of vials, all hand-labelled: Invigurayshun Draft (clearly, Poppy thought, Billow had not been the most literate of House-Elves), Sleepin Poshuns, Peperup Poshun, Flesh-eetin Slugs Repellant, Doxy-side, Elicksur to Injuice Uforya-_Perfect_...

Poppy stopped at that one. Elicksur to Injuice Uforya? Surely it can't mean Elixir to Induce Euphoria? If it were, then not only was this elf illiterate, but it was useless at Potions to. Or maybe the simple fact that he was illiterate was preventing him from the knowledge that an Elixir to Induce Euphoria was supposed to be sunshine-yellow, not the dirty grey colour that it currently was. Then why was it labelled 'Perfect'? The only way the elf could have known it was perfect is if he tried it, and there was no way that this could have induced euphoria of any kind. Now that Poppy thought about it, she had never really seen a potion that was so thick, dark and mud-like in substance...

Then a thought came to her. A thought so exciting that she had to sit down. She had heard of a potion that resembled thick, dark mud. Third year Defence Against the Dark Arts. Mad-Eye Moody was not Mad-Eye Moody at all, but a Death Eater disguised using a potion that Poppy had researched afterwards, unable to believe that not even Dumbledore himself had not known the true identity of Professor Moody.

Polyjuice Potion.

And here, right before her eyes, she found seven whole vials of the stuff. Enough for at least seven hours of disguise. Seven hours of being someone else. Seven hours of freedom.

x x x x x

Scabior knocked on the door of the basement some time late in the afternoon. She was wary at first, given that nobody ever knocked on her door, but she opened it anyway, one fraction at a time.

He thrust a pair of his plaid pants into her hands and told her there was a rip in it that needed fixing. She nodded, grateful for the distraction – doing nothing is awful when one has too many things to think about, and the Polyjuice Potion had added to that greatly. She took the trousers from him and went back into the basement to find her sewing kit, wondering why he couldn't just mend it himself, when she noticed Scabior following behind her.

"Love what you done with the place," he said, a trace of amusement in his voice, nodding towards the battered mattress on the floor. "Très chic."

In any other circumstances Poppy might have laughed at the way the French language sounded in Scabior's cockney accent. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and gave him a weary look.

"Will that be all?" she asked. Then, forcing the word out of her mouth, she added, "_Sir_?"

Scabior shrugged his shoulder. "Ain't got nothin' to do," he said.

Poppy rolled her eyes and sat on the floor, pulling a piece of thread off the roll. "So...? _Sir_?"

"So I thought I'd come down 'ere for a bit of afternoon delight," he said, a wry smile on his face. Poppy glared at him and he held his hands up, palms forward. "Just kiddin'. It's a joke. That's what people do sometimes – they joke. You should try it."

She dumped the trousers and the needle on the floor and crossed her arms. "Will that be all?" she asked sourly. "I have sewing to do. _Sir_."

Scabior laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets, shaking his head slightly.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone. I can see you're very busy." He turned and began walking back up the steps, but stopped half-way and said, "Oh, and don' call me 'sir', alright? It's makin' me nervous."

Poppy frowned at him and watched until his boots had ascended the last step before she picked the trousers back up and began to sew.

It had been her worst birthday by far, but that was not surprising. It had, however, not been an entirely miserable affair either. She had not been beaten, yelled at, or groped in any way, and she had had her first conversation since entering that house that didn't involve the word 'Mudblood'. She wasn't happy, understandably, but she wasn't completely unhappy either.

_**For scabiorxxx, FlyingHigh11, forbiddenluv, GossamerSilverweb, Xxsweet-venom-kissxX, Meh111, LizziePixie-Aiko, MuggleborPrincesa, SaraSyco, justmeagain123 and Nelle17.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

They moved in on a Friday. Moved in. That's how Greyback had put it. Ellian, Pearse, Whitaker and O'Conner were to become the new recruits, the newest members of Greyback's Snatcher gang. They seemed impressed, often amused, at the idea of a Mudblood servant.

It didn't take Poppy long to realise that they were a bunch of idiots. Even to say that they shared one brain cell would be a generous exaggeration.

Poppy had chuckled away in the kitchen that night thinking of nicknames for them all. Moran the Moron, Greyback the Mongrel, O'Connor the Cretin, Pearse the Piss-head (who was at the time lying face-down on the freezing cold driveway, completely wine-sodden), Ellian the Evil-Smelling, and Whitaker the Whale (although he moved with surprising speed). She couldn't think of an appropriate name for Scabior. It seemed somehow wrong when he had been the only one to even be remotely _un_horrible to her. He didn't call her a Mudblood, hit her or grope her. He had even stopped looking for her when he was drunk. He avoided her and she, in turn, avoided him. For that she was grateful. Six men were more than enough to contend with.

Business was slow. There were no Muggle-Born sightings, no truants found in the usual places, no rebels using the name of You-Know-Who (which, Poppy heard, was an offence now punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban). Poppy was able to keep herself from boredom easily enough with all the work that was to be done now. Not only did she need to clean the original two floors of the house, but the attic too, in which the newest recruits now slept.

Her nights, if not occupied by sleep, were spent contemplating the Polyjuice Potion. Even if she was successful in stealing DNA from one the snatchers, they were bound to realise something was wrong when two of the same men were wondering about the house. The only option was to knock the intended victim unconscious and then leave his body in the basement, where nobody but she ever went (with the one exception of Scabior). But how could she do that when she had no wand and he did? The only possible solution was to do it whilst he was asleep. But that was impossible when the door to the basement was constantly locked. Even if she succeeded, how would she move the body to the basement to hide it without waking the whole house? And then what? Surely it wasn't as easy as just walking out of the front door! There could be a spell or incantation, or a secret password, or some form of recognition system, like on those spy films. She would stare across at the Potion, these questions running through her mind, until finally she would slip into sleep.

Greyback was bored, that much Poppy could tell. Most of the other Snatchers would amuse themselves with card games and such, but they never seemed to include Greyback willingly, and he soon got bored of trying. For the rest of the Snatchers, status meant nothing when you were a Half-Breed.

In his boredom, Greyback got a whole lot more interested in Poppy. His occasional leering and inappropriate touches turned into constant harassment. He would corner her in the kitchen, in the living room, or whilst she was cleaning the bedrooms. He would make comments on her clothes, noting how tight they were when she knew for a fact that they were not. He would take a strand of her hair and stroke it, a dirty smile on his face.

Poppy tried to ignore him, tried to pretend that it wasn't happening, but the fact remained that it was happening. And it was happening to her.

The nights turned colder as the days slipped into winter. The house, being as large as it was, needed fires lit in every room in order to maintain an habitable degree of warmth. Poppy was required to light them every evening when Greyback finally decided that it was impossible to function in the cold – usually long after all the humans of the house had icicles dripping from their noses.

There was no fire in the basement, and for that Poppy was eternally cold. She made sure to leave the lighting of Scabior's fireplace until last in order for her to be able to sit in front of it for at least five minutes. She knew that if he caught her, he was less likely to hit her for it.

x x x x x

There came a thumping on Poppy's door and she stood up, grabbing the dressing gown off her pile of clothes. She had never worn it before, never really needed to, but was grateful now for whoever had given it to her (her clothes were left in a pile in the middle of the room when she woke up on her second morning there). She expected it to be Scabior – he was the only one who had ever come down into her basement – but it was not.

Greyback smiled at Poppy, his eyes travelling down her small frame.

"Got a job for you," he said. She could smell alcohol on his breath. Whiskey and wine.

She didn't say anything but followed him up to the second floor and to his bedroom. "Fire's gone out," he said slowly. "Fix it."

Poppy opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. There was no reason why Greyback could not re-light the fire himself, but if she said no he would definitely hit her. Then again, if she said yes, it was highly likely that he was planning something equally horrific for her.

She took a deep breath and went into his room, which smelt reminiscent to a pig-sty, crossing to the fireplace, from which smoke was being emitted. It had been dampened by water. It was as she was kneeling to try to light the fire that the door slammed shut behind her.

Greyback put a finger to his lips and made a shushing sound before casting the Imperturbable Charm at the door.

Poppy's breath hitched in her throat. She looked around the room for anything she could use to defend herself but there was nothing. Not even a lamp.

"Let me out," she whispered, trying to keep her voice calm. "Please."

He gave her a look of amused indifference. "Let me out, what?"

"_Sir_," she said clearly. "Sir."

Greyback shrugged and took a step towards her. "I can't do that," he said.

She took a step back and felt the wall close in behind her. Greyback crossed the gap between them slowly and carefully. He stroked the side of her face and she cringed away from him but he gripped her chin and held her still.

"Do you know what I like most about girls like you?" he asked, pulling her head to the side so that he could bring his lips down to her neck. "Their smell. It's intoxicating."

Poppy whimpered as Greyback's tongue snaked out and licked along her collarbone. She tried to push him back but his hands shoved her own down to her sides. He moved both of her hands behind her and held them with one of his own so that his other hand was free to begin untying the sash of Poppy' dressing gown.

She tried kicking him, tried to free her arms, tried to knee him. Nothing worked. He dragged the robe off in seconds, exposing the nightgown underneath. Poppy screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks, but no one could hear her. It was just her and Greyback now.

He picked her up roughly, bored of being in a standing position, and deposited her on the bed. Poppy took the seconds that it took for him to get onto the bed to her advantage, lunging for the other edge, her foot thrashing out at Greyback. He caught it and twisted it until she heard a crack.

Poppy couldn't see for pain. Her eyes were filled with bright dots dancing their way across her vision. She carried on screaming until Greyback pulled her back to him and held his hand over her mouth, warning her that he would take no hesitation in doing the same to her other foot if she did not shut up. Her muffled cries echoed around the room until she was finally able to control them down to petrified whimpers.

Greyback climbed on top of her, straddling her waist. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand and, with the other, dug his nails deep into Poppy's back and pulled, ripping deep gashes into her back. She groaned in pain, arching her back. Greyback took the opportunity to pull Poppy up by her back and crush his mouth over hers, pushing his tongue in. She clamped down on it with her teeth, tasted his vile blood.

He growled furiously, dragging his face away from hers. He thumped her across her face, knocking her off the bed. Poppy reached for the door, grabbing the handle and rattling it desperately. She cried out, her throat thick with tears, as rough hands entangled in her hair and dragged her backwards.

It was as Greyback was fumbling with his belt that Poppy saw his wand stuck into the waistbands of his trousers. She struggled with him until she succeeded in making him turn her around so that the wand was more accessible to her. He managed to undo his belt and turned his attention back to Poppy, grabbing a hold of the bottom of her dress and tearing it away to reveal her thrashing legs underneath.

She reached for the wand and missed. Greyback pulled her to her feet and pushed her against the wall, scratching away at her underwear in his drunken attempt to get them off.

Poppy closed her eyes and sucked in deep breath, then brought her forehead down straight into Greyback's face. He dropped her and staggered back, clutching his nose. Poppy shook her head to try to clear it and gripped the wall for support. She lunged for Greyback's wand, her thumb and forefinger gripping it tightly. A purple spark was emitted from it, throwing Greyback into the opposite wall.

He stood up and again and began staggering towards Poppy.

"_BOMBARDA MAXIMA_!" she screamed. The door was blasted off its hinges, embedding itself in the one opposite.

Clutching the wall, Poppy managed to make her way down the hallway and to the top of the stairs before Greyback could even leave the room. Her broken foot was useless. She couldn't even put it down for a second for fear that it might snap completely. The pain was overwhelming. Poppy didn't make it down two steps before her legs gave out beneath her and she fell head-first down the stairs.

It was difficult to distinguish between what was an what was not broken. Everything hurt. Her feet, her arms, her chest, her head. She tried to crawl away, exhausted and bleeding, but Greyback was right there behind her.

"What's goin' on?" She heard the roar but couldn't work out who it was. The blood rushing through her ears was obscuring everything.

Greyback had picked up his wand and was pointing it at Poppy, who was now cowering behind her saviour. At least, she hoped it was a saviour.

The man, who she now realised was Scabior, took out his own wand. She heard Greyback yelp.

"Fuck off, Greyback," Scabior hissed, "an' go an' lie down."

Greyback grunted something inaudible to Poppy ears and spat on the floor before her.

Poppy was still crying hysterically after he had left. She was shaking, shivering all over. Scabior reached down to try to help her but she flinched away from him.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, trying to crawl towards the basement door.

"Let me 'elp you," said Scabior. "At least let me 'eal yer leg."

"No!" Poppy was shaking her head manically. Her breathing was coming out in laboured gasps. "Don't come near me!"

Scabior reached down to her and tried to hold her arm but she fought him off, muttering the word 'no' over and over.

"Please," whispered Scabior.

She was still shaking, but she forced herself to stay as still as was possible as Scabior worked on her leg, her back and her face until she was physically healed.

She stood up slowly and staggered toward the basement door. Scabior followed her shaking body down the stairs until she simply stood in the middle of the room, shaking her head and silently crying. He took a step towards her but she cringed away from him.

He swallowed and reached a hand out to her. "Calm down," he said softly. "I won' 'urt yer."

Poppy's wide eyes glanced up at the basement door, which Scabior then, with her nodded consent, closed and locked. She sat down on the floor and tried to put the shards of her ripped nightgown around her bare legs. Scabior took off his coat and passed it to her. She pulled it over her body as he sat beside her.

"Did 'e-?" Scabior began.

Poppy shook her head, closing her eyes. "He didn't- He didn't get that far." She took a deep breath to try to calm herself but the tears were not helping matters. She leant her head in her hands and began rocking backwards and forwards.

Scabior muttered something beside her, waving his wand before him, then passed her a mug of steaming hot tea.

"'Ere," he said. "Drink it."

She touch a sip, grateful for its warmth, but gagged.

"Is there any tea in this sugar?" she asked in her feeble attempt to make a joke.

"For the shock," he explained.

She took another few sips and looked across at Scabior under her eyelashes.

"You can go now," she murmured, a yawn escaping her lips.

"I'm ain't leavin' you," he said. "Not like this."

Poppy had no energy left to argue. She leant back against the wall and closed her eyes.

Scabior watched her until her breath had grown heavy. Then he moved her to the mattress and put the pillow under her head and the blanket over her sleeping body. He waited until sunrise, throughout her violent nightmares and agonising screams. Then, when the morning sun was filtering through the window, Scabior took his jacket and made his leave.

_**For scabiorxxx, SaraSyco, Xxsweet-venom-kissxX, and TwiHard24.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

"I brought you breakfast."

Poppy looked up from the basement wall that she had been so intently examining to the plate that Scabior held before her, containing something that was so burnt that it was now unrecognisable.

"What is that?" she asked, her eyebrows raised slightly. "And, more importantly, is it edible?"

"First of all, it's bacon," he said. "And, yeah, it is edible. 'Ad some meself before."

Poppy took the plate and stared at the bacon for a few seconds before quietly saying, "Thank you."

Scabior nodded. "The thing is..." his voice trailed off at the end of the sentence and he seemed to be thinking about the best way to say what he had come to tell her.

Poppy looked at the bacon. It took all her will-power not to burst into tears right then and there. It had been one year and two months since she had last eaten bacon on her sixteenth birthday. She looked back up at Scabior who wet his lips nervously.

"You 'ave to come with us to London," he said. "You 'ave to 'elp us."

"Help you?" she repeated, confused. "Help you do what?"

"You should be grateful I even got you this," he said quickly, his voice rising in volume. "If it were up to Greyback, you'd be dead right now!"

Poppy stood up, intending to face Scabior but only meeting his chin. She lifted her head to look up at him but he refused to meet her eyes.

"It's been two weeks now an' Greyback don't think you're any use no more," Scabior continued, "so I got 'im to take you with us when we go snatching."

"You want me to help _snatch people_?" she cried. She stood with her mouth hanging open for a second, quite unable to fathom what Scabior was telling. Finally she shook her head fiercely. "I am not a monster. I won't do it. You can't- You can't make me! How could you even think that I would do this? No!"

"I don't wanna 'ave to make you, but Greyback don't want you round 'ere no more. You 'ave to show 'im you ain't completely useless an'... Maybe 'e won' kill you. An' it ain't just Greyback neither. The rest of 'em are getting frustrated."

"Oh, the poor souls," she said sarcastically, leaning her face into her hands. "How awful this must be for them."

"They don't want you 'ere no more than Greyback does, an' if Gryback can't 'ave you, 'e don' want no-one else to 'ave you."

Poppy growled in frustration. "What do you care!" she hissed. "So what if I die? It'll be a lot easier for you. No more pathetic, crying girls to look after. Surely you can see the benefits?"

Scabior's face was expressionless. "Maybe," he said, shrugging a shoulder, "but there ain't no-one what makes a bacon sandwich like you."

x x x x x

She had agreed knowing that, when the time came, she would never allow a poor soul to be captured by these snatchers. She would help them escape, simple as that. The problem was, they would never let her out of their sight, not even for a minute. She was chaperoned everywhere, which was becoming a great frustration to her. She couldn't even piss in peace. Scabior was always there, but that she could not complain about. He was the only one of the seven snatchers that she felt even remotely safe with, in that he was the only one who might think twice about killing her.

They arrived in London the next morning. They were staying at The Leaky Cauldron, Poppy, Scabior and Greyback, but the others were free to go wherever they pleased so long as they were back by the evening.

Poppy was shown to her room by Tom, the landlord, and was dismayed to see that she was sleeping in a twin bedroom. At least, she thought, there were two beds. Scabior came into the room and dumped his bag down on one of the beds.

"Can't expect you to be'ave yourself, can we?" he said as-a-matter-of-factly. "Don't worry though, I promise not to get sloshed out me 'ead. An' I won't be 'ere most of the night anyways... Important business an' all that. Just don' try and escape, alright?"

Poppy nodded sourly and sat down on the bed, looking around for anything that she might use as a weapon just in case.

Scabior began to walk out the door but then stopped and turned back to her. "Almost forgot," he said. "I got you somethin'."

Poppy stared up at him incredulous. "You what?" she asked, not quite sure she had understood what he had said.

"Don' get too excited," he said dryly. "You can't 'ave it. You can't even touch it yet." He dug his hand into his pocket and dragged something long and thin out of his inside pocket.

Poppy stared at it for a moment. Then she gasped quietly and reached out for it. Scabior snatched the wand back and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Where did you find it?" Poppy asked.

"I ain't completely useless you know," he said. "But you can't have just yet."

"So why are you showing it to me?"

"You'll look daft if you go out there pretending to be a witch an' 'ave no wand, wouldn't you? So I said to Greyback if 'e'd just let you 'ave a wand that weren't no good, then maybe you wouldn't look daft." He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. "But you can't tell him I found you old wand. 'E'd kill me. Then 'e'd probably kill you. So just shut up, yeah?"

Poppy nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

"An' no funny business when I give it to you," Scabior continued. "'Cause I'll be there watchin' you. Understand?"

Again she nodded, and again Scabior made to leave the room. Except this time, he didn't come back.

x x x x x

Poppy had always wondered how somebody could use the phrase 'between a rock and a hard place' and actually mean it. Surely there couldn't be two unsatisfactory choices? There had to be three choices in total, but you were only seeing the two difficult ones because the third was so easy that you had convinced yourself that it must not be there. But as she sat in the darkness of The Leaky Cauldron, Poppy could not see a single other option for her. Kill or be killed. It was true that she wasn't actually going to kill the victims, but sending them to Azkaban was just the same. A life of cold, numb depression was no life at all.

Six o'clock came. The outside was shrouded by darkness. Not even a single street-lamp was lit in Diagon Alley. It was completely deserted. A pin dropping would have sounded like an explosion there. The snatchers had received a tip-off that there was a group of truants living in a disused dress-shop, and Poppy was to go in there. She was to calm them down, make them think that everything was okay, that they could come out now because it was safe.

Scabior came to get her. She was sat on the bed, covered from head to toe in a black cloak. She glared at him, her eyes red from tears.

"Please don't make me do this," she said quietly, looking back down at her lap. "I can't do this, Scabior, I just can't."

He moved to stand in front of her. "You don' 'ave any other choice," he said softly. "You'll be alright."

"It's not me I'm worried about!" Poppy hissed, standing up to face him. "Why are you doing this to me? Like it wasn't enough that you killed my parents, you want to kill me too!"

"That's what I'm tellin' you!" he cried, "We ain't gunna kill you if you do this!"

"But you are! You're already killing! I can feel myself dying more and more everyday. This isn't me, Scabior! This is not me."

She waved her arms in frustration and Scabior grabbed a hold of them, pinning them down to her sides. He let go of them with his right hand and brought it up to her chin, lifting her face to make her look at him.

"You are not a bad person, Poppy," he whispered. "You will never be a bad person. But we are, and just 'cause we make you do things that are bad, it don't mean that you are too."

She opened her mouth to say something to him but couldn't find the right words. He blinked, seemingly snapping back to reality, and let go of her.

x x x x x

"I can't do this," she whispered to Scabior as she was marched down the alleyway. Her breathing was rapid, completely irregular, her palms were sweaty, and her head was thumping.

"You'll be fine," Scabior whispered back.

Poppy shook her head. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Jus' focus on now," Scabior hissed. "The future don' matter."

She stopped still. Greyback turned back to look at her.

"What do you think you're stopping for?" he hissed.

Poppy wrapped her arms around her stomach, looking up at the tops of the houses were the rest of the snatchers lay in waiting.

"Please," she whispered. "I don't-" But before she could finish, the contents of her dinner came hurling back up her throat and onto the cobbles. She stood doubled over for a second before Greyback grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and straightened her up again.

"You will do as you're told," he growled. "Get in there and find them. Now!"

With that, he shoved Poppy forward to the entrance of the dress-shop. She turned back slightly and caught sight of Scabior, who looked as sick as she felt.

The shop was silent. It was eerily quiet and pitch black. Poppy crept through it as slowly as possible, hoping with everything she had that she would find nobody there.

But they were. Huddled in a corner sat eight petrified school children. They scrambled to their feet when they saw her, their eyes wide in fear. Poppy stood still, her own horrified look on her face. One of the braver, older children took a small step forward.

"Are you running too?" he asked.

Poppy blinked at his innocent face and ragged clothes. They were so naïve, so trusting. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing but a squeak came out.

"It's okay," he said. "We can help you."

Poppy's eyes shifted down towards the other children, who were peering around the boy to inspect Poppy. The youngest of the group, an incredibly small girl, was holding tightly onto another girl's hand.

Poppy opened her mouth again, this time managing to form the word "Run."

A floorboard creaked softly in the background.

"Run," she said, her voice almost inaudible in the room.

The boy's brow wrinkled in confusion as the sound of quiet footsteps could be heard behind Poppy.

"Please just run." This time she was sure they heard her. "Disapparate. Now."

They were too quick. It was an ambush, there was no other way to describe it. The children were not expecting the snatchers and only half were quick enough to Dissaparate. Four were caught, trapped in invisible chains, there eyes locked on Poppy in the ultimate betrayal.

Greyback turned on Poppy. "You," he growled, advancing on Poppy and grabbing her by the front of her cloak. "You let them get away!"

"You now what they say," Poppy said, sounding a lot braver than she actually felt. "If you want a job done properly, do it yourself."

Greyback's face twisted in a sneer. He threw Poppy down on the floor and choice to ignore her, focusing his energy instead on his newest captives.

_**For Nelle07, scabiorxxx, Xxxsweet-venom-kissxxX, forbiddenluv, FlyingHigh11, ButlersTheJob.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

They took them to the Ministry. Poppy wasn't allowed to go with them, but that was no misfortune on her part. The less she knew about the fate of the four truants, the more she could pretend that it just didn't happen.

And so it continued. It wasn't always truants. Mudbloods and Half-Breeds alike were persecuted by the snatchers for the simple matter of being different. Why was difference so wrong? Why were these people – because they were people – being persecuted? Because they were not so different than the Purebloods of the Wizarding society. They felt the same things, thought the same thoughts, shed the same tears. If you cut a Mudblood, does it not bleed as a Pureblood does? And is that blood not the same scarlet shade? Or if you touch a Half-Breed with fire? Will it not burn in the same way as a Pureblood will? Does it not hurt in the same way?

Death seemed like such an easy option now, one that Poppy was not entirely frightened of. After all, she knew that in death she would not only free of Greyback and his snatchers, but she would see her parents again, and she wanted nothing more than that. But she could not die, not yet. If she could help just four get away, then surely that was better than none at all.

It became harder as time went on to help the snatchers' victims. They were watching her every move, and, as a result, only a few could ever escape. Poppy thought about the Polyjuice Potion but she was yet to find the opportune moment to use it, nor could she find the perfect victim. She always kept two vials of the potion carefully hidden in the inside of her cloak in case that moment did arise when she was finally given two minutes alone, but it never did, and as for her wand... Well, Scabior was not very forthcoming in giving her that. She began to think that he was never going to give it her at all.

But, as they say, patient is a virtue, and a useful virtue to have indeed. For time forgives all, and time helps you forget. And with forgiveness and forgetfulness comes trust. Scabior began to trust Poppy, like he had forgotten everything that she was.

He told Greyback that the wand was stolen from a Veela, and that it therefore would be quite useless to Poppy due to its temperamental nature. Greyback was far too stupid to ask how Scabior had managed to steal anything from a Veela and he was no wand-maker so he didn't know that the core was of Hippogriff Talon, and everybody knows that Veelas do not fare well with Hippogriff Talon cores.

It wasn't just Scabior who had begun to change. Poppy was scared that she too was starting to trust Scabior, despite everything he stood for. It was just natural, she told herself. Of course it was. She was sharing a tent with him after all. She couldn't help but be slightly more comfortable knowing that he did not want to rape or even hit her anymore.

She got the wand back sometime in December, but only whilst she was out snatching. For this she was more grateful than she could ever express. She didn't have enough time alone to Apparate or anything drastic like that, but the wand came in handy when she needed to magically enlarge her inside cloak pocket to fit all seven vials of Polyjuice potion; when she needed a tree branch to fall down and block the snatchers way for a few seconds to allow their victims to escape; or simply when the ice and snow became impossible to walk on and she needed an infallible grip on the bottom of her boots.

There became a routine to the snatching. It wasn't exact, but Poppy worked out that they would spend an average of two weeks out snatching before they finally couldn't stand the tents or the snow any longer and they would go back to the house for about a week. Poppy certainly preferred it back at the house. It was the only time she could be alone. There seemed to be some form of unspoken rule that meant that the snatchers would not go down into the basement, which suited her just fine.

December came, and with it there came Christmas. As they wandered through the festive Wizarding town of Amultea, decorated with lights of every colour, Poppy couldn't help but feel depressed.

"Where's your festive spirit?" asked Scabior as they sat in the corner of the local tavern.

Poppy was sulking miserably. "We're about to put someone in Azkaban for Christmas and that doesn't bother you?" she shot back.

Scabior sniffed and shrugged a shoulder. "I think you'll like this one," he said quietly, leaning forward. Poppy did the same, her face mere inches from his.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Why?" she asked. "Who is it?"

He looked around him first to check that no-one was eavesdropping before answering, "It's a vampire."

Poppy's mouth hung open for a second. "A _vampire_?"

"Ssh!" Scabior hissed. "It's supposed to be a _secret_."

"But vampire's don't come out during the day," she whispered. "They'd burn in the sunlight."

"Wrong," he said, a know-it-all smile on his face. "That's just a rumour. Makes Wizards feel all safe durin' the day. Makes you think like you can come out an' do your daily business, walk down empty alleyways and whatever else you can't do at night."

Poppy thought about it for a moment then leaned back in her chair. "So what?" she said finally. "Being a vampire doesn't automatically make you evil, so why should I 'like' this?"

Scabior smile wryly. "Because our friend, Leo de Valenta, 'as a preference for children. Boys in particular."

"You're right," she said, "I do like this one. But I don't know the first thing about vampires. What the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

He put his hand inside his jacket pocket and dragged out a red lollipop.

"What is that?" asked Poppy.

"Blood-flavoured lollipop."

Poppy stared at him, eyes wide. "And what exactly do you expect me to do with it?"

Scabior pushed it into her hand "Use your imagination."

"And what will we will do with him should we catch him?"

He shrugged. "Dunno," he said. "Depends 'ow Greyback's feelin'."

"Meaning?"

"If 'e's in a good mood, 'e'll probably kill 'im," explained Scabior, "but if 'e's in a bad mood, 'e'll let the Dementors do it."

"Well then," said Poppy, pocketing the lollipop. "Let's hope Greyback is feeling particularly pissed off today."

x x x x x

Poppy, Scabior, Pearse and O'Connor stood outside The Featherless Hippogriff, the only inn to grace Amultea, surreptitiously sneaking glances through the window.

Scabior nodded to a man sat at the bar. "That's 'im," he said. " Leo de Valenta. Don't be fooled by 'im. Just try to bring 'im round the back, yeah? Ellian and Whitaker are somewhere round there."

"Where's Greyback?" Poppy asked as she studied the face of de Valenta – his pointed nose, high cheekbones, tanned skin, dark mahogany eyes.

"The smell'd be a bit suspicious."

Poppy nodded. Beside her, Pearse sighed. "Jaysus, Mary and Joseph," he said in his thick Irish accent. Apparently, Greyback had found him and O'Connor in a dodgy tavern in County Mayo. "Would ye just get in dayr an' bring him out, already?"

Poppy glared at him. "You know," she shot back, "I really don't know what you're saying."

"Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat!" he hissed. O'Connor chuckled beside him.

Scabior rolled his eyes. "Break it up," he said, pushing Poppy towards the door of the tavern. "We'll be right behind you. An' what 'ave I told you idiots 'bout talkin' English? Can't understand a word your bleedin' sayin'..."

Poppy made to open the tavern door but then had an idea. She started jumping up and down on the spot, much to the confusion of the other three.

"Good God, Payter," Pearse said quietly to O'Connor, "Shay's gown mad!"

"Aye," said O'Connor. "Oi tink ye moight be roight."

Poppy was suitably out of breath by this point and stopped with the jumping. She smiled patronisingly at O'Connor and Pearse and entered the tavern without further explanation.

The inn was considerably darker than outside and it took her eyes a moment to adjust. She noticed de Valenta's head turn to the side slightly when she walked in, but he didn't look at her fully. She crossed over to him.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, pointing towards the vacant seat beside him.

He shook his head and she sat down, her breathing ragged as if she had been running for miles. She ordered a glass of water from the barman and then leant her head forward for a second to get her breath back, cursing herself for being so unfit.

"Running away from Dementors is so not my idea of fun," she said in a chirpy voice, wiping a hand dramatically across her forehead. "Still, it was worth it."

She pulled the lollipop out of her pocket and set it on the bar. De Valenta, who had been looking rather bored previously, suddenly perked up and stared down at the lolly. Poppy picked it up and slowly unwrapped it.

"Somebody told me this was blood-flavoured," she laughed, "but it looks distinctly strawberry-like to me."

She lifted it to her mouth but was stopped by de Valenta gripping hold of her arm.

"You do not want to do that," he said in a silky Spanish accent that made Poppy want to melt. She blinked, temporarily forgetting what was going on.

"Wha-?" she mumbled.

"They were not lying," he said. "That is blood-flavoured."

"Oh," said Poppy dreamily. She suddenly shook her head and smiled sheepishly, setting down the sweet again.

"Where did you get it?" de Valenta asked.

"Honeydukes," Poppy lied. "I woke up this morning and I just had to have something sweet, so I went to Hogsmeade. Of course I had no idea that the place was just crawling with Dementors! Still, I was not leaving there without some sweeties... But I guess it was all for nothing."

She glanced around quickly to spot Scabior, Oconnor and Pearse sat around a table to her left, drinking Firewhiskeys inconspicuously.

"You would think that somebody like you would know about the Dementors," de Valenta said.

Poppy's head snapped up to his face. "What did you say?"

He leaned closer to her. "I know what you are," he whispered into her ear. "I can smell the Muggle in your blood."

Poppy raised her eyebrows, pretending she was unperturbed by this revelation, even though her heart was pumping ten to the dozen. "Is that so?" she said calmly. "You really ought to be more careful about who you tell you can smell their blood, you know. People can have excellent imaginations these days."

"Really?"

Poppy nodded. "For instance, you could be... a fairy?" De Valenta chuckled softly. "Or a werewolf?" At this he hissed under his breath. "Or even a vampire?"

His eyes seemed to glisten at Poppy's final word. "A vampire?" he repeated. "I do like the sound of that."

"Me too," she said, taking a sip of the water that had just arrived.

"You do?"

"Mmm," she mumbled through a mouth-full of water. "I've always found vampires to be quite _erotic_."

De Valenta raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "What if I were to tell you that I was a vampire?"

"The I would say that you were a liar," she said, "because vampires don't come out during the day. They burn."

He moved closer to Poppy so that their arms were now touching. His skin felt icily cold, but Poppy didn't think that had anything to do with the weather. "Then I would say that you were the liar."

She turned to look up at him and felt her breath hitch in her throat as she noticed two long fangs protruding from either side of his mouth. He smiled at her reaction then let them disappear again.

"That's a nice party trick, Leo," she said, recovering herself. "Did it come with fake blood?"

De Valenta cocked his head to the side and seemed to be observing her for a moment. "It is strange that it is you who is called a Mudblood," he almost purred, "but to us vampires, yours is the sweetest blood."

"It is?"

He nodded, giving her a funny sort of smile. "And I would so much like to taste it."

Poppy looked down at her water and took a deep breath. "Maybe we can make a date," she offered in the most alluring voice she could muster.

"I do not want to have to wait for a date," he told her. "Come outside now."

"Now?" She was starting to feel completely out of her depth here.

"Round the back is quite secluded," he said softly, standing up from his seat. "Let me show you just how _erotic_ vampires can be."

He walked out without another word, leaving Poppy to simply stare after him. She looked back at Scabior and gave him a small nod. Wiping her palms on her dress, she stood up and made her way over to the back door.

The alleyway behind the Featherless Hippogriff was empty. There was no sign of de Valenta save for a few footprints in the snow. Poppy took a step forward slowly, focusing her mind on the way her breathing was coming out in white clouds of condensation so as to try to calm herself down. Running away was no option now. He could smell her blood, hear it pumping through her veins.

Suddenly, there came a noise behind her. She began to turn around but was stopped by cold hands on her shoulders. Her gasp came out as a small shriek.

"You scared me," she breathed quietly, putting her hand over her heart dramatically.

De Valenta did not say a word. Instead, he began unravelling Poppy's scarf from her neck. She squirmed uneasily under his touch. _Where was Scabior?_ His hands began moving upwards along her body until they stopped at her neck. He stroked it softly but then starting applying so much pressure that she was beginning to choke. She clawed at his hands frantically, visions of Greyback's numerous attacks coming back to her. He let her go.

She fell to the floor in a heap, panting heavily as, above her, de Valera began to laugh.

"Humans are so weak," he said. He leant down to Poppy and pulled her up by her arm. "You know, I don't ever remember telling you my name." Poppy's eyes widened. "So," he continued, "unless you happen to be highly skilled at Legilimency, which I doubt given your feeble age, I want to know who you are."

Poppy struggled against him, refusing to answer. He spun her around and leaned her head to the side, exposing her neck to him.

"Who are those men?" he growled, showing just a glimpse of his anger. "The ones you keep looking at? Are they snatchers?"

She didn't say anything. She had stopped fighting and was now lying slack in his arms.

"Very well," he said. "Clearly they don't care about you enough to save you from me, therefore they won't mind if I kill you, will they? I get the feeling I am about to enjoy this."

She heard a snarl as de Valenta opened his mouth. She felt the sharp prick of his teeth against her skin. She screamed as he began gnawing mercilessly on her neck. Then, just as she felt she would pass out, she heard a bang and then a grunt from de Valera. It was as if all the air in his lungs surged out of him. His face twisted into unmistakable agony as his body slowly turned to ash.

The stake fell to the floor at the same time as Poppy collapsed on the ground before Scabior.

_**For DaisyClaire, scabiorxxx, Nelle07, WobblyJelly, Xxsweet-venom-kissxX, forbiddenluv, and Emily. Thanks for the reviews!**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

Poppy opened her eyes and stared up at the tent ceiling. She was fairly sure that she was still in one whole piece. She sat up slowly, noticing Scabior sleeping in a chair beside her, a bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion led in his lap.

Outside the tent, Poppy could just about see Whitaker laying on the ground, fast asleep next to the dying embers of a fire. Scabior, too, was at that moment dead to the world, as were the rest of the Snatchers, as far as Poppy could tell. Her wand, she hoped, would be tucked away in Scabior's jacket pocket and, as long as she was quiet and gentle enough, she was sure that she could get it out without waking him.

He grunted in his sleep and rolled over to make himself more comfortable (almost crushing Poppy's hand in the process), but she managed to reach her wand and extract it successfully without him waking. There wasn't anywhere really that she could think of to go. She couldn't go to Hogwarts, nor Hogsmeade, nor anywhere else where she could be truly safe, so Poppy closed her eyes and thought of home.

She heard someone behind her say "Don't," but didn't bother to open her eyes. She felt the uncomfortable tug on her stomach, and something touch her back, but she wasn't sure whether it was from Scabior or the Apparation.

The landing was awkward due to a heavy knock to her back when her feet hit the floor. It wasn't the Apparation. Scabior had grabbed the back of her robes, and was knelt a few feet behind her. She pushed off on her feet, noticing the housing estate where she used to live not far in front of her, lit up by various Christmas lights. She had never been that good at navigation. Still, a few hundred yards away was surely better than the next city completely.

The floor was slick with half-melted snow, and the gripping charm that Poppy had placed on her boots had now worn off, meaning that it was next to impossible to run standing upright for more than two seconds straight. The fact that the road to the estate was also downhill did not help matters. She could hear Scabior grunting behind her as he tried to slide along the slush after her. Poppy had never been all that good at ice-skating, and that definitely showed as she skidded down that wretched hill.

Making it down the hill turned out to be the easy part. It was what happened when she reached the bottom that was most difficult. Once she had gathered the momentum to get down the hill, it seemed to build up so much that she could not stop when she reached the bottom, and collided straight into a garden fence. She would have flipped over it had Scabior not made contact with her the next second, crushing her stomach and knocking the wind right out of her.

They collapsed back onto the floor, Poppy gasping for air and Scabior groaning about having just been fallen on by her. She rolled off of him and stood up shakily, holding onto the fence to stop herself from slipping over. Scabior was glaring at her from behind. She turned around and glared back.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she snapped. "This isn't helping you, is it? Do you really gain anything from keeping me prisoner?"

Scabior picked himself up off the floor and grabbed for her wand. Holding so tightly onto the fence to stop herself from falling, she couldn't react fast enough to stop him. He took it and pocketed it, gripping a hold of her arm so that she couldn't run away. Unfortunately, this meant that the arm that he had hold of wasn't able to hold onto the fence anymore, seriously upsetting her balance.

"I just want to go home," Poppy whispered weakly.

She felt Scabior's grip loosen and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "This is where you live?" he asked.

Poppy nodded. "It would be... _wonderful_ if I could see it one last time," she said hopefully.

Scabior looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing down on his lip. Finally he shrugged and let go of Poppy.

"Okay," he said. "But if you run off again, I'll take you straight back to Greyback. Understood?"

Poppy nodded, trying to restrain the smile that was growing on her face.

Getting across the estate was not an easy task to say the least. Poppy could never remember the ground being so full of snow and ice, but it soon became clear to her that the people of Fairfield were completely ignorant to the use of grit. Poppy would have greatly enjoyed having her wand back, therefore being able to re-cast the gripping charm on her boots, but Scabior refused to give it back so he was the only thing left for her to use as support – hardly a sensible idea since, had any one of them fallen at any time, they would have both fallen and caused a lot more damage than was necessary.

Still, despite the ice, they made it to her small, semi-detached house on Cromwell Lane. It was the same as she had remembered it, yet she had somehow expected it to change. Even the flowers in the front room remained, a present from her father to her mother for her birthday the week before Poppy had left for Hogwarts. It was as if the whole house had been preserved. As if by magic. The house was cold when they first entered, but thankfully the heating had not turned off altogether, and was soon warming the house again after Poppy had clicked round the thermostat. The electricity, too, was still working, which Poppy was more than grateful for. The Muggle technology that she had definitely missed the most was the shower.

Scabior wondered around her house, a vaguely interested expression on his face. He stopped and looked at some of her family pictures occasionally, but he didn't ask any questions. Poppy didn't trust herself to look at any. He stopped in her bedroom and sat down on her bed, glancing around at the pink walls and pink fluffy cushions.

"Nice," he commented, giving her an amused smile. "Didn't think you was such a girly girl."

"I'm not," said Poppy dryly. "Not anymore anyway. I went through a pink phase ages ago. I just haven't had time to paint my room again recently."

Scabior picked up one of the cushions and twisted his fingers into the fur.

"Do you mind if I get a shower?" Poppy asked. "I really need one."

Scabior looked almost horrified by Poppy's suggestion, but nodded anyway and told her not to be too long. She skipped away happily and could have screamed with joy when the hot water hit her. She wasn't dirty - she had been able to have a wash every morning and sometimes in the evenings if they weren't out kidnapping innocents - but there was nothing that could beat a hot Muggle shower.

Poppy reached up for the shampoo, her hand closing around the only bottle there. She poured it on and began lathering it up, but stopped almost immediately. Coconut. Her mother had always smelt like coconut.

She scrubbed it out as quick as possible, rubbing her hair roughly until she was sure it would fall out. She pushed the bottle away and turned off the shower, sitting down in the bath. She watched the shampoo pouring all over the bathroom floor, silent tears streaming down her face.

"I'm so sorry, Mum," she whispered, pulling her knees up to her chin.

If he heard her, Scabior did not come. He left her to cry alone.

_**Thank you for the reviews forbiddenluv, scabiorxxx, ButlersTheJob, and WobblyJelly. Kisses to you all. **_


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

Scabior was still sat on Poppy's bed staring at the cushion when she came out of the bathroom. He looked up at her, obviously noticing her red and puffy eyes, but he said nothing, nor did he comment upon the Muggle clothes that she was now wearing (her dress had a rather large tear along the bottom as a result of running down that hill).

Poppy sat down on her pink and white dressing table and groaned inwardly at the sight of her face. It was not the state of her eyes that shocked her most (which were looking very frightful indeed) but the thinness of the face – the prominence of her cheek-bones, the pinched lips, and the unusually large eyes – which resulted in her looking so much older than she truly was. Vanity had not been of very much importance to her in the past four months, therefore it had been that long since she had really looked at herself in a mirror. Turning her head to the side, she could see a thick white scar courtesy of De Valenta. She looked over her shoulder at Scabior.

"Why didn't you come for me?" she asked, her voice a little croaky from crying.

Scabior didn't look up. "I did," he said simply. "You wouldn't be 'ere if I 'adn't, would you?"

Poppy turned around to face him. "Why didn't you come sooner?" she demanded. "As soon as I left that tavern you should have been right behind me!" She was aware of her voice rising in volume, but the fact that Scabior wouldn't even look at her was not helping her temper. "So where were you?"

"You didn't look like you needed 'elp to me," he muttered.

Poppy blinked. "Excuse me?"

Scabior sucked in a deep breath and swallowed hard, pulling on the fluff of the cushion until Poppy thought it might come out. "You looked like you was quite enjoyin' yourself to me."

"How dare you," she whispered, almost unable to believe what he had just said. "How dare you! I can't believe you would– How can you even–?" She broke off, unsure of what to say, then stood up before Scabior. "You left me there to die – because had you been _a second_ later I would be _dead_ right now – because you were jealous? LOOK AT ME!"

Poppy picked up the cushion and hurled it across the room where it bounced off the wall. Scabior stood up suddenly, his whole body throwing Poppy's into shadow.

"Alright!" he yelled. "I was jealous! Is that you wanna 'ear from me? Is it? That I wanted it to be me that you were over there flirting with? That every time you laughed at something 'e said, or touched 'is arm, or got that look in your eyes I wanted to smash 'is face in? Is that what you want from me?"

He stopped shouting and looked down at Poppy, his chest rising and falling heavily. Poppy too was breathing hard now after such an unexpected outburst. She looked down on herself, not wanting to hold Scabior's stare any longer.

Scabior held onto her chin and lifted it up. "Don't look away from me," he whispered, using his other hand to move a wet strand of hair out of Poppy's eyes.

"Scabior," she breathed. She put her hands up to his chest but couldn't find the strength nor the will to push him away.

He moved closer, his face mere centimetres away from Poppy's. She closed her eyes as she felt Scabior's lips make contact with her own, soft and gentle as they pressed down upon her mouth. It suddenly occurred to Poppy, in a strange and inappropriate moment, that this was her first proper kiss – her only other, despite those from relatives of course, had been from Colin Creevey in her first year, but that hardly counted; she had only done it because she felt sorry for him (he'd just been cured of near petrification) – but now she found that she was rather enjoying the way Scabior's lips moved over hers, the way his hands entwined in her hair, the way his body felt so warm against her own.

Poppy wrapped her arms around Scabior's neck, exterminating any air that was left between the two of them, and stood up on her tiptoes to get better access to his mouth. She felt his hands travelling down her back, pulling her further up to him so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. The added weight of Poppy knocked Scabior backwards onto the bed. The fall brought Poppy back to her senses, even though Scabior seemed to lose none of his enthusiasm. She pushed back off him and stood up, stumbling into the dressing table.

"I, um... don't know what came over me," she stuttered, giving a nervous little laugh. "Too much Muggle air I suppose."

Scabior sat up on the bed. "Sorry," he said.

"Don't be," she assured him, giving him a false smile. Why did it have to be so complicated?

Scabior stood up from the bed and gave her a small smile back. "We should be 'eading back now anyway. Don't wan' 'em to leave without us."

"We're leaving?" asked Poppy. "But we've only been out three days."

Scabior looked amused. "Don't you know what day it is tomorrow?" he asked her. Then, noticing her blank expression, he added, "It's Christmas!"

"Oh. I didn't realise."

Her first Christmas away from home and Hogwarts.

"Let's get going then."

"Can I at least dry my hair first?"

Scabior sighed and sat back down on the bed. "'Urry up then."

"Can I have my wand please?" she asked. Scabior opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off by telling him that it would be much quicker that way, so he relinquished the wand.

She held the wand up to her hair and whispered, "Fervefacio." It emitted a gust of warm wind and immediately began drying her hair.

Scabior, bored of watching, took to examining her bookcase. He picked up a book of Fairy Tales and began flicking through it. Poppy watched as a smile began to form on his lips.

"It's Hans Christian Anderson," Poppy explained. "He wrote Fairy Tales."

"I ain't an idiot, thanks," said Scabior shortly. "I know 'oo 'Ans Christian Anderson is."

Poppy scowled at him. "I wasn't suggesting that you were!" she said, a little offended at his tone of voice. "I just thought that wizards read _The Tales of Beadle the Bard_, not _Thumbelina_."

Scabior closed the book and stared down at it for a second, realising that he had said the wrong thing.

"They don't," he said quietly. "Wizards, I mean. They don't read 'Ans Christian Anderson." He stopped talking and Poppy thought that he would say no more, but he began again after a short time. "My mum was a Muggle."

Poppy's mouth looked as though it was just about hanging on by the hinges after that comment.

"_A Muggle?_" she repeated.

Scabior gave her a sad little laugh. "Surprise," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "She used to read me these every night. 'Till she died. My father married Cruella de Vil 'erself six months later. She really was an evil stepmother. She burnt all o' Mum's books and took away all my toys because she said that _'toys were not for big boys'_ even though I was only six.

"Priscilla – that was 'er name – was a Muggle-born, though you'd 'ave an 'ard time convincin' 'er of that. Thought she were descended from royalty, even though the most noble of 'er relatives were a Court Jester beheaded in 1587 for tryin' to steal food from the Royal Castle. She were made up when I got sorted into Slytherin, but that were no surprise, 'cause she were directly related to Salazar Slytherin 'imself, and descendants of Salazar Slytherin do not marry Gryffindors, Ravenclaws or 'Ufflepuffs.

"When my father died, 'e left the 'ouse to 'er. They din't 'ave any kids 'cept me. Couldn't 'ave been 'appier when she died, but, being the bitch that she were, she left the 'ouse to me under the condition that I don't sell it. She put some enchantment on it which means it can't be sold for one 'undred years, and if anyone does try an' sell it, it just disappears. _Poof!_ Just like that."

Poppy had stopped drying her hair and was watching Scabior through the mirror as he stared down at the book of Fairy Tales, such a bitter expression on his face.

"Is that why you hate Muggle-borns?" she asked. "Why you became a Snatcher?"

Scabior slotted the book back on the shelf and stood up. "It's why I 'ate Muggle-borns, yeah, but it ain't why I became a Snatcher. I did that 'cause... 'Cause I'm a bad guy. And, to be 'onest, I'm really good at it."

There was a moment of silence before neither really knew what to say, before they finally decided that it was time for them both to leave.

Scabior stood beside Poppy. "Ready?" he asked.

She nodded and placed her hand on Scabior's arm. He looked down at it before clearing his throat.

"We, erm... We've gotta go Escavale first. We need food for tomorrow."

Poppy smiled at the idea of Greyback sat underneath the Christmas tree opening presents.

As if reading her mind, Scabior said, "Greyback ain't gunna be there. Moran neither."

"Why not?"

"They're goin' Amultea for recruitment."

"On Christmas day?"

"Not everyone gets into the Christmas spirit."

"And I suppose you do, do you? Tinsel everywhere?"

Scabior didn't answer.

x x x x x

"Did you get the potatoes?"

"Yes," hissed Scabior. "I got the potatoes."

"The cranberry sauce?"

"Poppy," said Scabior firmly. "I'm quite capable of reading a list."

Poppy narrowed her eyes at him. "I've never made Christmas dinner before," she said.

"Me either."

"Oh, right, because you'll be in the kitchen helping me, will you?"

They stopped outside the butchers and peered in through the window. There wasn't much left.

"I don't see any turkey," said Scabior.

"There's a chicken there," Poppy said, pointing at an incredibly small bird at the back of the cabinet.

"You sure it ain't a pigeon?"

Poppy rolled her eyes. "Next time," she said, "if you want a good-sized chicken, grow your own or don't wait until Christmas Eve to buy it. We'll just have to get a piece of beef as well."

They bought the pathetically-sized chicken and a beef joint and left the butchers. There wasn't really much else that could be bought so Scabior decided that now was the time for a drink. The local tavern, The Centaur and the Hippogriff, was wonderfully warm and inviting. It was certainly nothing like that of Malumbria – the people seemed quite friendly.

They chose a table in the far corner next to the window where Poppy could watch the snow falling to the ground. She itched her legs absent-mindedly. The new dress that she was wearing had a horribly coarse netting around the bottom part that wasn't half as bad when she tried it on.

Scabior came back with two hot Butterbeers and frowned at Poppy.

"Stop fidgeting," he said. "People'll think you've got lice."

"I can't help it!" Poppy hissed. "This dress is horrific!"

She picked up the Butterbeer, mainly for something to get her mind of the itching.

"They'll probably 'ave gone back by now," said Scabior. "We'll meet 'em back at the 'ouse."

She had forgotten mostly about the other Snatchers. She had almost become quite happy.

A woman came to take away their drinks once they had finished and looked quite dismayed at Poppy's sullen expression.

"Oh, be 'appy, love," she said in a jolly voice. "It's Christmas! 'Ere, I've got summink to cheer you up!"

She dragged a piece of mistletoe out of her pocket.

"Oh, no," Poppy began. "We're not- I mean, he's not-" But before she could finish, Scabior leant across the table and covered his mouth with hers.

The woman went away happily as Poppy pushed Scabior back.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, glancing around the room to check that no-one was watching.

"Oh, give over," said Scabior, smiling broadly. "There ain't nobody 'ere 'oo can see us. Besides, I was just doing it to shut you up."

Poppy shook her head. "Next time," she warned, "I'll make sure the mistletoe's infested with Nargles."

_**Forscabiorxxx, forbiddenluv, Xxsweet-venom-kissxX, WobblyJelly, DaisyClaire, and loki's valkyrie.**_

_**I may have gotten slightly giddy when I wrote this chapter. Poppy's first kiss! With Scabior! Finally!**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

Poppy lifted the heap of bedsheets and headed towards the stairs. It was times like these that she truly longed for her wand. She heard her name called behind her and quickened her pace. Scabior was hardly the person she wanted to talk to right now.

"Oi!" he hissed, grabbing at her arm and trying to turn her around.

She pulled her arm away and carried on down the hallway. "I'm very busy, Scabior," she said politely over her shoulder. "Perhaps we can talk later?"

Opening the door of Pearse's room, she was hit by a foul smell of stale sweat and alcohol, amongst other things. She began making the bed with the new sheets, ignoring the bang of the door behind her. The sheets were swept out of her hands in a moment and made to cover the bed.

"We need to talk now," said Scabior firmly, putting his wand back in his pocket.

"I have nothing to say."

"Well, I do." He backed Poppy up against the wall and placed his hands either side of her shoulders to prevent her escape. "What 'appened yesterday-"

"Was a mistake," Poppy cut in. "It can never happen again."

"Poppy..." He brought his hand up to stroke the side of her face but she flinched away.

"Don't, Scabior," she hissed, staring down at his chest to avoid his eyes. "Just don't. If somebody finds out about... About what happened-"

"They won't."

"They will and you know they will," she insisted. "You and I can never happen. I... I kissed you because I was miserable, Scabior, nothing more. It's like you said, you're the bad guy, and I'm not that far gone yet. At least, I hope not."

"You're not."

"Good, and I never want to be. I can't be as comfortable about putting people in Azkaban as you are."

"That's what you think?" he asked. "I 'ate Azkaban more than anything, Poppy, but what other choice do they 'ave? To run away constantly until they're caught and killed? That ain't a life."

"And you think Azkaban is? You would rather they have their soul sucked out of them, piece by piece, day by day, than die? Is that really better?"

"Poppy, please don't hate me," he whispered, leaning closer so that she could inhale his musky scent. "I need you not to hate me." His face was pressed against her own, his cheek rubbing against hers, his voice soft in her ear.

"Why?" she said softly, brining her hands up to stroke his neck. "Tell me..."

There came a bang outside of the door. Scabior jumped back from Poppy as Moran came into the room. He stopped dead when he saw them both and swayed slightly on the spot.

"'Scuse me," he slurred, turning around and shutting the door behind him.

Poppy looked at Scabior. He shrugged.

"Probably thinks it's the kitchen," he said. "Been knocking back the Firewhiskey all mornin'."

Poppy stared at the spot that he had just vacated. "I should go," she said softly. "I don't want to burn the Christmas dinner."

He didn't try to stop her as she left, nor did he follow her out. He watched with an expressionless face as she walked away.

x x x x x

O'Connor, Ellian, Pearse and Whitaker were in the garden shooting at pigeons. Thankfully, in their incredibly drunken states, they were not succeeding in hitting anything but themselves. Scabior was somewhere wondering about the house drinking Butterbeer. He didn't seem to find alcohol as appealing anymore.

The chicken was burnt, as were the potatoes and the cake. She doubted anybody but Whitaker would ever notice and he was currently led on the front lawn, face down in ice. Poppy tested most things before she put them on the table, and they seemed edible. At least there was no chance of anyone getting food poisoning, and nobody complained as they were eating.

Poppy ate on her own down in the basement, as she was now accustomed to doing. If she closed her eyes and thought hard enough, she could pretend that she was at home with her parents, or even at Hogwarts with Claire and Ginny and Dumbledore, but it was getting harder to picture their faces every day.

Scabior came down just as the afternoon was fading into evening. The snow had begun falling again outside, covering the ground in a thick white blanket. He rubbed his hands over his arms as he descended the stairs.

"It's freezin' down 'ere," he commented through chattering teeth.

"Really?" said Poppy dryly. "I hadn't noticed."

Scabior opened his mouth as if to say something but gave up, instead wondering along the shelf of potions, suddenly very interested in their contents. He carried on like this, walking back and forth, occasionally picking up one of the vials to examine it more closely, until Poppy cleared her throat loudly.

"Was there something you wanted?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," he said quickly. "Whitaker were wonderin' if you 'ad any more cake."

"I made two!"

Scabior shrugged. "Guess 'e were 'ungry."

Poppy sighed and pushed herself up from the floor, shrugging off her blanket. "Kitchen?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think 'e's waitin'."

Whitaker wasn't exactly waiting in the kitchen. Not consciously anyway. He was lying in the doorway between the kitchen and the back door, completely knocked out. Scabior shoved him outside with his foot before locking the kitchen door.

"Will he be alright?" asked Poppy.

"That's 'is problem."

"It's snowing, he could catch flu."

"So give 'im some Pepperup Potion."

Poppy couldn't help but notice how Scabior was slowly walking towards her as he spoke, backing her up until she was stopped abruptly by the kitchen work surface.

"The cake."

"Forget about the cake. I just remembered I didn't get a chance to tell you 'appy Christmas."

Poppy mover her face away from his, pushing his hands away as they began encircling her waist.

"You've said it now," she said, her voice sounding a little breathless. "So I'll just be-"

"Don't," Scabior said. "Don't go."

Poppy bit onto her lower lip and groaned. "Don't do this, Scabior. If someone sees us we'll be in so much trouble..."

"I can't stop."

"Try harder."

"Why?" he asked, tracing the tip of his nose along her neck. "Don't make me."

"I don't... Scabior, stop it, I..." She was finding it incredibly hard to think straight when he was this close to her. "This isn't good... I mean, I don't- I don't know you. I don't even know your name."

"Scabior is my name," he whispered, his kisses trailing along her jawline.

"But it's not, is it? That's just what they call you. What's your first name?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

She gasped as Scabior pushed her back and up onto the surface so that her face was now level with his. His lips met hers and attacked with an insatiable hunger as his hands travelled along her arms, over her back, through her hair. She kissed him back with as much enthusiasm, for the time forgetting all of her apprehension concerning Scabior. She wanted him and he wanted her. That was all that mattered in that moment.

Until there came a noise behind them, in a kitchen which had previously been absent of any such thing save for their heavy breathing. A voice.

"Well, well, well," the voice said. "Isn't this cosy?"

_**For DaisyClaire, scabiorxxx, ButlersTheJob, TwiHard24, TeamGaleSoIGetPeeta, WobblyJelly, eloquent dreams, Nelle07, Megara, Frozen Seagull, and LizziePixie-Aiko. Thanks for the reviews!**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

Poppy's first thought was that she didn't recognise the voice. It did not belong to any of the snatchers. Her second was that she should probably untangle herself from Scabior and get down off the counter, so she slowly began unhooking her legs from around Scabior's waist and hopped down, glancing over his shoulder at the woman stood behind them as she did so.

She was a pale woman with golden-blonde hair that Poppy suspected was not natural. She was tall, the height of Scabior, with a slender figure clearly visible with her choice of close-fitting clothes. Poppy supposed she might be considered pretty, had her face not been twisted into what Poppy could only describe as disgust.

Scabior stood frozen at the kitchen, his face blank. He turned around slowly and looked at the woman, a look of fear spreading across his face. His swallowed hard when he saw her.

"Jonathan, darling," she said slowly.

Poppy sneaked a glance at Scabior under her lashes, who seemed to flinch at this woman's words.

He fixed her a glare of deepest loathing and said, "What the 'ell are you doin' 'ere?"

The woman tutted and pouted. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" she asked, a tone of mock disappointment. "Honestly, Jonathan, I thought you had more manners than that."

She looked at Poppy as if she had just realised there was somebody else in the room, and sneered at her. "I see your standards have dropped, darling. Screwing filth like that? You could catch anything. But I don't blame you, dear, you're only human."

"Get out," Scabior said firmly. "Get out now."

The woman put her hand over her heart and looked forlorn. "Oh my, Jonathan, you really have changed. Usually you were only ever this rude in the bedroom."

Poppy's eyebrows raised to high Heaven. She had been hoping that this woman was his sister.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid, Eris?" Scabior said, his voice rising in volume. "Get out. _Now_."

The woman named Eris shrugged. "I can't," she said simply. "I'm here for good, I'm afraid. I signed a contract."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"I, Eris Grey, have signed a contract," she said slowly, emphasising each word. "You do understand what a contract is, don't you?"

Scabior's nostrils flared as he took a step towards the woman. "I am warning you," he growled.

Eris threw her hands up, palms forward. "Honestly, Jonathan, I'm telling the truth," she insisted. "I can't leave. I've been recruited."

Scabior blinked. "Recruited?"

"Yes, darling," said Eris. "I'm your newest Snatcher."

x x x x x

Leaves were crushed on the ground as feet bounded over them. Sparks of every colour were flying through the forest as the Snatchers approached their nearest victims, closer and closer each second. The fugitives were growing tired, and Greyback was slowly encircling them, ready to cut them off from the front.

Poppy looked up at the heavy branches overhead and aimed her wand at them quickly, quietly whispering the necessary spell. One of the branches made an almighty cracking noise and disconnected from its tree, plummeting down onto Greyback. It stopped just above Greyback's head and was thrown into the distant trees as Greyback lunged onto the running party.

Poppy was then lifted from the ground and thrown into a nearby tree herself, banging her head hard. She pushed herself into a crouch and took a deep breath as her head started spinning. She was hoisted up by her cloak collar and made to look up at Eris.

"Try that again," said Eris, "and I will not hesitate to kill you."

She dropped Poppy and walked innocently to where Greyback and the other Snatchers stood over their newest catch, one of which was bleeding heavily from a deep gash in his arm, no doubt courtesy of Greyback. Poppy stood still for a moment until her surrounding became still again. How could she have been so stupid as to let Eris, of all people, see her?

Poppy eyed Eris and felt a deep hatred bubble up inside of her as the woman sauntered over to where Scabior stood and brushed his arm with her hand. Scabior's eyes flickered over to Poppy and rested on her forehead. She reached her hand up and felt a warm liquid there. She wiped it away and shrugged at Scabior before dragging a handkerchief and mopping up the blood on the injured man's arm. He refused to look at her as she healed it with her wand. Only one of the four captured would admit his name, and it turned out that he was a Muggle-Born.

Poppy was left behind with the rest of the snatchers as Scabior and Eris left with the four men (who had all turned out to be Muggle-Borns). It had been like that ever since Eris had arrived six days before. Poppy had hardly seen Scabior since then, and if she had it had only been for a second. Eris made sure that she was near Scabior every second of the day and Scabior didn't even seem to mind anymore. She wondered if his initial animosity was even genuine or if he had just said those things to Eris for Poppy's benefit.

Poppy banged the nail into the ground hard with the mallet. She hated Eris, with her snide remarks and dark glances. She hated her almost as much as Eris hated her back. Poppy didn't know exactly why Eris hated her, but it could only be one of two things: the fact that she was a Mudblood, or the fact that Scabior had shown her more physical attention in that first minute that Eris had met Poppy than he had Eris herself in the six days that she had been there.

Her frustration at having to put the tent up manually was not helped by the fact that Eris and Scabior seemed to be taking much more time than was required at the Ministry. They should have been back hours ago, but they were not. Darkness was falling over the forest as Poppy finally erected the tent and sat on the damp grass beside it.

It was only then that she started thinking about what day it was. Eris had been there for six days. Six days since Christmas Day. That would make it New Year's Eve. How strange a thought it was that a whole new year would be beginning. Would this war still be going on at the start of the year after? Would Poppy still be in captivity?

She closed her eyes and dragged her knees up to her chin, leaning back against the tent. The rest of the snatchers save Ellian, who was working at starting a fire, entered the tent, no doubt searching for whatever alcohol they might find in there.

Poppy heard a _Crack!_ in front of her and opened her eyes to see Scabior and Eris stood before her. Eris was smiling broadly, an unusual occurrence indeed. She laughed loudly before wrapping her arms around Scabior's neck and pulling his face down to hers. He pushed her off and began pulling her in the direction of the tent, still laughing like a hyena. He gave Poppy a weary look as he passed.

Scabior emerged from the tent five minutes later and told Ellian that he could join the others in the tent, as they were currently drinking the crates of Firehiskey and Elder Wine that he had brought back from Diagon Alley. He then sat down next to the fire opposite Poppy and waited until Ellian had left before speaking.

"Eris is asleep," he said quietly. "She made us go to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink first. 'Ad a few too many, I think."

Poppy sniffed and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I'm glad you had a nice time," she whispered.

Scabior chewed on his bottom lip and stared into the fire. "I 'ate 'er, you know that," he said.

"Do I?" asked Poppy. "Because I don't remember you ever telling me that."

He stood up and moved over to sit next to Poppy. "I'm sorry. I should 'ave talked to you."

Poppy looked sideways at him and tilted her head. "So, who is she?"

"An ex," he explained. "She weren't a nice person. Bit possessive, obsessed with blood purity, you know? But she were pretty an' charmin' an' up for anything, if you know what I mean."

Poppy wrinkled her nose. "Probably didn't need to know that bit," she said. "She still loves you?"

"She never _loved _me," said Scabior, a horrified edge to his voice at Poppy's choice of words. "She don't know what love is. She just likes to finish what she started."

Poppy smirked. "Well, if she's here to finish you off with drink, I reckon she's going about it the right way."

Scabior laughed softly and put his arm round Poppy's shoulders. "I've missed you these past few days," he said, leaning his chin on the top of her head. "I miss talking to you."

"I bet that's all you missed," she said sarcastically.

"Of course!" Scabior said, a tone of mock horror. "I am a gentleman!"

Poppy smiled. "I've missed you too."

"And Poppy?" he whispered.

"Mmm?"

"Happy New Year," he said softly, before covering her mouth with his own.

_**It wasn't Greyback! It wasn't even a man! It was Eris, named byFrozen Seagull. Thank you, Frozen Seagull. I don't like Eris. She hasn't even done anything yet, but she's such a COW.**_

_**Anyway, thank you to scabiorxxx, WobblyJelly, ButlersTheJob, eloquent dreams, Anastasia Lionheart, Chocoholic93, DaisyClaire, MugglebornPrincesa, and Nelle07 for the reviews!**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

Poppy took the carving knife and dug it into the edge of the table, gauging a smiling face into the mahogany wood. She had never been so bored in her life. There was only so much cooking, cleaning and ironing that one person could do before insanity kicked in, and it was most definitely lurking at the back of Poppy's mind.

"Priscilla paid a lot of money for that table," came a familiar voice behind her. "She'd 'ave a fit if she saw what you'd done to it."

Poppy looked ashamed as Scabior took the seat next to her. "I'm so sorry," she gushed. "I was daydreaming, not paying attention-"

"It's fine," he said, taking out his wand and carving eyebrows onto the face. "I reckon it's an improvement anyways."

Poppy smiled and looked over her shoulder at the kitchen door. "Where is everyone?" she asked.

"Upstairs," said Scabior. "Watching that Pro-whatsit-scope."

"Proteloscope," said Poppy. "Sounds exciting."

Scabior groaned and slumped back in the chair. "It ain't. An' I've got that bloody Eris tryin' to talk to me all the bloody time."

"Oh, Jonathan, _darling_," said Poppy in an imitation of Eris' voice, "you musn't be unkind to her!"

Scabior shuddered. "Don't," he said. "Every time she says that I wanna slit my throat."

"I was beginning to think you didn't have a name."

"Jonathan ain't my name," he said softly, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. "It were just what I used when I was with 'er."

"So what is your name?" asked Poppy.

"Don't 'ave one."

"You must have one."

"I don't."

"Well, what did your mother call you?"

Scabior opened his eyes. They stared unfocused across the room for a moment as he thought about what Poppy had just asked him. Then he said, in a voice that was quite difficult for Poppy to hear, "Sweet'eart."

Poppy opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. She put her hand over his and gave it a small squeeze. It seemed to wake him out of his trance because he blinked, washing away any trace of sadness in his eyes, and gave her a smile.

"Poppy," he began, sitting up straight in the chair, "I wasn't there, you know."

"Where?"

"At your 'ouse when... when your parents died," said Scabior. "I didn't get there until after you did."

Now it was Poppy's turn to give Scabior a false smile. "Thanks for telling me," she whispered. "I-"

She was cut off by the sound of the kitchen door opening. Their hands pulled away quicker than a flash of light. Poppy stood up and grabbed an old rag, pretending to be dusting the cupboard doors, whilst Scabior lounged back in the chair.

"There you are, Jonathan," gave a sickly sweet voice. "You're needed upstairs, darling."

"What for?" When Scabior spoke, Poppy could hear the hatred in his voice.

"I don't know," said Eris. "Greyback wants you. Oh, and Mudblood?"

Poppy reluctantly turned around to face Eris.

"Sandwiches," said Eris. "Make some sandwiches and make them quick. Do you want me to write that down or can you remember?"

Poppy resisted the urge to tell Eris exactly what she could do and turned to grab a loaf out of the bread-bin. She heard the kitchen door close behind her, so naturally she was surprised to hear footsteps still behind her.

"You're becoming quite the problem, aren't you, Mudblood?" said Eris. She waited until Poppy had turned around to come closer to her. "I want you to stay away from Jonathan, understand?"

Poppy gritted her teeth. "What Scabior does is his business," she said, surprised to hear that her voice sounded steady despite the fact that her hands were shaking. "I am not his keeper. I can't control him."

"Listen," hissed Eris, closing in so that her face was extremely close to Poppy's. "I'm not going to tell you again, Mudblood. Stay away."

She took a step back and grabbed hold of Poppy's right hand, squeezing it tightly. Something glinted in her own hand and Poppy was horrified to realise that it was the carving knife she had been using earlier. Eris brought it up to Poppy's palm and began tracing a circle with it.

"Do you know what happens to fools who play with fire?" asked Eris, digging the knife in so that a pool of blood began to form in Poppy's palm. She dragged it along the length of Poppy's hand as Poppy fought to keep herself from screaming. She stopped at the edge but left the knife in there.

Eris leaned forward to whisper into Poppy's ear, "They get burnt." She dropped the knife before vacating the kitchen.

x x x x x

There was a lot of shouting coming from around the house and a deafening alarm coming from the Proteloscope upstairs. The Taboo Curse. Somebody had said the Dark Lord's name. They all had approximately ten seconds to reach the Proteloscope from the moment the first person touched it before it Disapparated. Poppy was being dragged up the stairs by Ellian and, as a result, could not avoid going with them. The snatchers were understandably excited. This had never happened before. People were always so careful in not using the name, but occasionally people slip up.

They landed in the middle of a deserted village. It had been completely ransacked, with most houses burnt to the ground. Scabior handed Poppy her wand, which she gripped with her bandaged hand. He was careful not to let anyone see the reassuring squeeze. Silently the snatchers tiptoed through the village. They split up – Scabior, Eris, Whitaker and Elliian, and Poppy, Greyback, O'Connor and Pearse.

Poppy stayed behind Greyback the whole time. Out of the three of them, he was the one most able to block spells at a moment's notice. The village was quiet. Whoever had said the name was hiding somewhere. They walked down the middle of the place, careful not to make a single sound, looking back and forth and left and right as they went.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bright blue ball of fire plummeted at the four of them, hitting Pearse in the shoulder and sending him flying into O'Connor.

"Over there!" yelled Greyback, sending his own curse in the direction of the flame.

It had come from the house opposite them, and multi-coloured sparks had begun to fly from it. Poppy sent Stunning spells at the windows in the house, hoping to catch the attacker off-guard, but Greyback was shooting to kill. The rest of the snatchers joined them in seconds, as well as O'Connor. Pearse lay unconscious on the floor, his clothing charcoaled and his arm oozing blood.

Under Greyback's instruction, the majority of the snatchers followed him upstairs where the sparks had been seen to come from. Poppy and O'Connor searched downstairs, in case the attacker had moved or there was anyone else in the house. Poppy took the left, O'Connor the right. Above, she could hear crashes and doors where being smashed down, but no shouting. Whoever was doing this, they were good at hiding.

She crept through the house, avoiding any floorboards that looked potentially creaky, but she could not avoid every one. Poppy's heart stopped as her foot pressed down on a particularly noisy part of the floor. She stood still. She heard movement to her left and turned in time to let out a scream as the man advanced on her.

He grabbed her and twisted her round, resulting in her dropping her wand, holding his own wand to her neck and his hand over her mouth. She could hear the rest of the snatchers heavy footfalls on the floor upstairs, making their way for the stairs. Eris got there first. She tried to do it subtly, but Poppy saw Eris' wand move before the bookcase and shelves and part of the wall came down before her, preventing the snatchers from reaching Poppy.

The impact of the bookcase knocked the man off balanced, and he stumbled backwards. Poppy reached up and grabbed the wand. They fought for control of it before it was knocked into the rubble of the bookshelf. He resorted to a fist-fight instead, thumping Poppy across the chin. He was weak, no doubt from days of starvation, and his punches did nothing compared to those of Greyback. She hit him back and he tottered backwards, giving Poppy time to search for her own wand.

She saw it there, amidst the rubble, got down on her hands and knees and reached for it, but her hand came up short as the man grabbed hold of one her legs and pulled. Her arms gave out from under her and her face connected with the floor. She heard a sickening crunch as her nose broke in two places.

She could hear bangs coming from the other side of the rubble as the snatchers tried to get through, but Poppy guessed that Eris was doing a lot more hindering than helping.

The man was dragging her backwards, climbing over her body until he could reach her neck. He pressed something cold and hard against it.

"You bastard snatchers," he growled, his voice laced with venom. "You can all go to fucking Hell!"

There was a final bang the other side of the rubble and a piece dislodged, knocking the man back into the wall. He had dropped the knife in front of Poppy. She picked it up and slid it into her cloak pocket as Greyback crossed over the broken bookcase and grabbed hold of the man. For once, she didn't feel sick as she heard the sounds of screaming and Greyback tearing away at human flesh.

_**For Frozen Seagull, ButlersTheJob, Xxsweet-venom-kissxX, scabiorxxx, forbiddenluv, LizziePixie-Aiko, DaisyClaire, WobblyJelly. Thanks for the reviews.**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

Poppy turned the knife over in her hand, fingering the red jewels that were encrusted onto the handle. She wondered if they really were rubies or just imitation. If they were real, they would certainly be worth a lot of money, even in the Wizarding world. She didn't see it as stealing exactly. It was only stealing if the owner wanted it back, and, since the man was dead, she didn't think he had much want or use for it now.

She had been avoiding Scabior since the previous night, purposefully asking Whitaker to heal her nose and her ankle, which had been sprained. Scabior seemed to get the message. He hadn't even looked at her since.

The opening of the tent ruffled softly as someone came through it. Poppy shoved the knife into her cloak pocket and stood up to face Scabior. He looked surprised to see her there, almost as if he had forgotten she was out here at all. They stood in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other, until Poppy wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and made to exit the tent.

Scabior stood firm in from of the opening and looked down at her.

"Excuse me," she said softly.

"What 'appened to your 'and?" he asked, his voice completely void of emotion.

Poppy looked up at him as if he were crazy for asking such a question at a time like this. "I cut it," she said vaguely. "Now, if you wouldn't mind-"

"Did she do it?"

"No," she said firmly. "I did it myself, carving. Please, Scabior, just let me past. Greyback wants me to start a fire."

Scabior laughed mirthlessly. "Funny that," he said, "since Moran's already doin' it."

"And he needs more firewood," she continued, pretending as if she hadn't heard him.

"Whitaker's gone," he said, staring vacantly above her head. "That it, then? Or 'ave you got some more excuses?"

"They aren't excuses," she whispered.

"Right." He turned away from her and lifted the flap of the tent. "You know, if it were the other way round, I'd 'ave at least 'ad the decency to tell you straight."

Poppy watched as Scabior left the tent then sat back down on the bed, putting her head in her hands. She hoped Eris was happy. She had gotten what she wanted. Not only was Scabior going to stay away from Poppy, but she had the added bonus of the fact that he now hated Poppy too. Yet, as miserable as this made Poppy, she knew that this was the only way she could stay alive.

x x x x x

It had only been a day and already Poppy felt as lonely and miserable as ever. None of the other snatchers so much as looked at her, never mind talked to her. Not that Scabior had when they were in company like this, but knowing that she could talk to him later about things that happened during the day made her feel less lonely. Just his presence there with the other snatchers made her feel more comfortable. Now it made her feel sick, watching as Eris threw herself all over him and he did nothing to push her away. He was trying to make her jealous, Poppy understood that. She knew that he was just doing it for a reaction, but that didn't make it any less painful to watch.

Since the wind and the rain had made it fairly impossible to sleep comfortably in the tents, Greyback had agreed to let them stay the night in the nearest Wizarding village. It wasn't just the weather, though. Most of the men were feeling pretty edgy. It had been a while since they had been in female company - save for Poppy and Eris, both of whom were off bounds - and they were desperate to change that.

Poppy didn't catch the name of the village -she was too busy worrying about the night ahead of her. Who would she share a room with? Greyback, Moran, Eris and now Scabior all hated her, and she was sure that the others disliked her also. But, worse than that, Poppy couldn't help thinking that if she were not sharing a room with Scabior, Eris would do anything to take her place.

They Apparated into the village and made their way to the inn, where they could dump their bags ready for the night. Greyback paid for the five rooms. O'Connor and Pearse (whose arm was now wrapped up in a sling since the healers at St. Mungo's couldn't completely heal the wounds) eyed him suspiciously as he brought out unexpected bags of silver coins from inside his robes. He looked at them and narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he growled.

"Nuttin," said Pearse quickly.

"Aye, nuttin," repeated O'Connor.

Greyback rolled his eyes and began handing out the room keys. One to O'Connor and Pearse. Ellian and Whitaker. Moran and Scabior.

Poppy's heart began thudding. Eris or Greyback?

Greyback smiled at the panic in her face. "You can share with me," he said, passing Eris the last key.

"Wait," said Scabior suddenly. Eris turned to look at him, then glare at Poppy. "She can share with me." Poppy looked up at him but he refused to meet her eyes.

"Now, now, Scabior," said Eris. "We can't let you have all the fun, can we? I'll take her."

"Eris," began Scabior, his tone one of warning.

"Enough," said Greyback, rolling his eyes. He grabbed a hold of Poppy's arm and dragged her towards the stairs. "She's coming in my room and that's final."

Poppy didn't look back at either of them as she allowed herself to be dragged up the stairs. She already knew that Eris was smiling.

Greyback unlocked the door and pushed her in. The room reminded her of the one in Malumbria. It had a large, mahogany double bed in the middle of the room, a battered old armchair, and a bedside table. She didn't suppose many people used these rooms long enough to need wardrobes. She sat down on the armchair and crossed her legs, trying to compose herself. Greyback liked fear. In fact, she was fairly sure he enjoyed seeing the horror in people's eyes as he attacked them. He was much less likely to attack her if she just remained calm.

He dumped the bags down in the corner of the room and turned to watch Poppy, sat quietly examining the seam of her cloak. He took a step towards her, then stopped, judging her reaction. She did not move. He took another step, but still she would not react. His shoulders slumped and he looked disappointed.

"You're no fun when you're like this," he whined. "I prefer it when you're all twitchy."

He laughed as she continued to ignore him, even when he came closer and kneeled down in front of her. She looked anywhere but at him, holding her breath to avoid breathing in his foul stench.

"You think you're better than me, don't you?" Greyback asked. "You're not. I saw you when I killed that man. You didn't even care."

Poppy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"You even smell like them now," he continued. She looked up at him, certain he had gone mad. "Dirt and sweat. There's no escaping it now, is there? You're a snatcher. You're one of us."

He stood up and left the room chuckling softly to himself. He had said it to unnerve her, Poppy knew that. But it didn't help the fact that it was true. She was one of them now. One of the bad guys. And there was nothing she could do about it.

There came a knock at her door. Her heart dropped when she answered it. Eris stood smiling in the doorway.

"Good evening," she said. "I think we need to talk. Might I come in?"

Poppy stood firm. "No," she said.

Eris shook her head. "Not a good idea, Mudblood. Step aside and left me through."

Poppy reluctantly moved back and watched as Eris came through the door and shut it.

"We have a problem, Mudblood," she said. "You see, I don't think I was clear enough when I told you to stay away from Scabior."

"I have," began Poppy.

"No," insisted Eris. "He still has... _feelings_ towards you. Why is that?"

"I don't know."

"YES, YOU DO!" Eris yelled. Poppy took a step back. Eris took a deep breath and rubbed her temple. "He needs to hate you."

"He already does."

"STOP LYING TO ME!" hissed Eris, pushing Poppy back into the wall. "He does _not_ hate you! If he did, he would _never_ have offered his room to you. Now, what I'm simply suggesting is that you make him hate you. Quickly. Before my patient finally runs out with the both of you. If I think that something is still going on behind my back, I will kill Scabior and make you watch. Then I torture with the Cruciatus Curse until you reach the brink of insanity. Once you get there, I will stop and give you five minutes respite. Then I will do it again. And again. And again. Do I make myself clear?"

Poppy nodded slowly. There was no way she would argue with this woman. She was not just bitter, she was completely insane.

Eris straightened out her shirt and smoothed down her hair. "I'm glad we could come to some form of agreement," she said in an oddly calm voice. "I know you won't let me down."

x x x x x

She found him straight away, sat in the tavern downstairs, but Poppy could not bring herself to talk to him. Even if she did, she didn't know what to say. How could she make him hate her more?

She sat miserably at the bar under the watchful eye of Greyback. She couldn't see Eris but she had the feeling she'd be watching from somewhere.

The barmaid handed Poppy a glass of red wine. Poppy stared at it. It looked just like blood. She looked up at the woman, confused.

"From that guy over there," she said.

Poppy turned around to see Greyback give her a small, patronising wave. She glared at him before turning back to the bar.

"I don't want it," she said.

The barmaid shrugged. "You with those guys?"

"Yeah," said Poppy. "Why?"

"Just wondering." She seemed to drop it, focusing instead on the glass she was drying out, but then said, "What about that one? With the red streak?"

Poppy glanced quickly at Scabior, who was quite evidently listening to the conversation. "What about him?" she said.

"What's his story?"

Poppy looked up. "Excuse me?"

"You know," said the barmaid, rolling her eyes as if it was such an obvious question. "Does he have a girlfriend?"

She paused for a minute, thinking about the question. "Uh, no. I don't think so."

"He's so good-looking, don't you think?" she gushed. "I mean, he has that whole scruffy thing going on. Like, ruggedly handsome."

Poppy rethought the drink. She gulped it down in one as the barmaid rabbited on about Scabior.

"He's really quiet too, don't you think?" she was saying. "Last time we came I couldn't get him to say anything more than good evening. Do you think I could? Get him to say more than two words, I mean?"

Poppy shrugged but the barmaid wasn't listening anyway. She was already making her way over to where Scabior sat with Moran and Whitaker. She grabbed a stool and dragged it next to him, plopping herself down on it and crossing her legs.

"Hello, gorgeous," she said in what Poppy assumed was supposed to be a sultry voice. It sounded more like she had a cold.

Scabior gave her an uncomfortable look and shifted in his seat as Moran and Whitaker smiled. Clearly neither of them would mind being in a similar situation.

"I bet my friend over there that I could make you say more than two words," the barmaid said. Poppy closed her eyes and turned back to the bar, hoping Scabior hadn't seen her watching. Why couldn't she have left her out of it?

He had said it softly, but the bar was close to closing time and not many people were talking. Poppy heard him, as he got up from his chair, lean down to the barmaid and say "bad luck" before brushing past Poppy and out of the tavern.

She had followed him upstairs, where he was fumbling with the key to get into his room, but no words came out. He saw her standing there and just stared at her.

"You alright then? Greyback not killed you yet?" he said finally. "I understand, you know. I know why you 'ate me."

"Scabior, I don't-"

"Let me finish," Scabior interrupted. "I don't want you to be like me. Or any of us. I've made you like this. You need to stay away from us as best you can."

"Stop it," said Poppy firmly. "Just stop. Please."

"It's fine," Scabior kept saying.

"No, it's not," whispered Poppy, horrified to feel tears pouring out of her eyes. If Eris could see her now. "I didn't do this beside I want to be a _better person_! Scabior, I-"

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind them.

"Evening," said Greyback. "You gunna stand out here all day or are we gunna have ourselves some fun?"

Poppy looked at him. Then, without even thinking too much about what she was doing, she smiled. The hurt on Scabior's face was evident. Hurt, then anger, then nothing. Nothing at all.

Poppy waited until he had gone into his room to enter her own, shutting the door on Greyback. She would not touch him with a barge pole but, as Muggles always say, it's the thought that counts.

_**For DaisyClaire, ButlersTheJob, WobblyJelly, forbiddenluv, loki's valkyrie, scabiorxxx, AtaleOfTwoLoves, LizziePixie-Aiko, Sweet-Little-Hufflepuff (quite a contradiction given your review, don't you think?), SportzDawg, SueybirdTheSecond and Nelle07.**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

Poppy dipped her toe into the stream and pulled it back almost immediately. It was cold, but she had been in worse. Besides, it had been at least a week since she had been able to have a proper wash. She stripped down to her underwear and took a deep breath before submerging herself completely under the water. Her body soon warmed up it and she lay still in the water, not bothering to come up to breath for a while. It felt nice to block everything out. Greyback, Eris, Scabior...

She came back to surface, her lungs begging for air. Greyback, Eris, Moran, Ellian and Whitaker had left for the Ministry a short while ago with five Muggle-Borns and two Blood Traitors. Only one of the Muggle-Borns had escaped, but he was bleeding heavily as a result of Eris' handy-work so Poppy doubted that he would get too far. O'Connor and Pearse were playing cards in the tent and Scabior was keeping watch not far from where she was. She tried not to think about him though.

That night in the hotel she had pushed Greyback off of her the minute Scabior had disappeared and locked herself in the bathroom. Greyback was clearly looking for an easy pray since he didn't come after her. She didn't see Scabior again that night and she made an effort not to even look at him again. She didn't doubt for a second that Eris would go through with her threat. She would kill Scabior and torture Poppy without a second thought.

Poppy pulled on her clothes and sat by the stream for a long time. It was the perfect moment to run away but Greyback had taken her wand with him to the Ministry. It was getting dark so she decided to go back to the tent, where Pearse was cooking some poor animal over a fire.

"D'ye tink it's done yet, Payter?" he asked O'Connor.

O'Connor poked it with his knife and nodded. "Aye."

There were three rabbits, all cooked to within an inch of their lives, but at least they were cooked. She ate hers in the tent. Claire had a rabbit. A white one called Daisy. Claire would have had a fit if she knew that Poppy was eating rabbit, Poppy thought, but then she realised that there wasn't much that Claire would approve of in regards to Poppy's situation.

Pearse had put a whole heap of salt over the meat before cooking it and as a result Poppy was incredibly thirsty by the time she finished. It was as she was purifying water from the stream that they returned. It was dark already, with only the light from the fire illuminating their faces, but she could see that something was wrong. She counted. One, two, three, four...

Scabior looked up from the opposite side of the camp-site. "What 'appened to you lot?" he asked, his eyes passing over the four faces.

O'Connor frowned. "Where's Moran?"

"Dead," said Greyback simply, no hint of emotion. "Bloody idiot."

Poppy froze, watching each of their faces carefully. They really weren't joking.

"What d'you mean dead?" demanded Scabior.

Greyback shrugged. Ellian said, "We lost 'im at Diagon Alley. Couldn't find 'im anywhere."

Whitaker spat on the ground. "That's 'cause 'e were off messin' with somebody else's wife," he said bitterly. "Then 'er 'usband comes back an' challenges 'im to a blood duel!"

Eris sniffed and examined her nails. "You can imagine what happened next," she said dryly. She plonked herself down next to Scabior shortly before he felt the need to stand up.

Poppy couldn't help but feel an odd sense of relief, even happiness. She had hated Moran and now he was dead. One down, two to go...

"We had to get out of there pretty sharpish," said Greyback. "Couple of men from the Ministry took his body."

Scabior rubbed his face in his hands, suddenly looking very tired. "It's the full moon tomorrow," he said to Greyback. "We going back?"

"Yeah," said Greyback.

"Great," said Scabior, clapping his hands. "Who's keeping watch? Eris?"

Eris blinked and opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by an "Okay" from Scabior. He left the rest of them by the fire, Eris with a sour expression.

Poppy couldn't believe it. Moran was dead. Dead. As in, would never bother her again. And it had been so easy.

"Oi," she heard somebody say. She looked to her right at Ellian. He handed her a brown parcel, which she took. "Give it to Scabior, will you?"

It felt like a pair of boots. Hardly surprising, thought Poppy, since he had holes in the soles of both of his. She considered opening the flap of Scabior's tent and throwing the boots in, but the others, particularly Eris, would have given her funny looks for that, so she took a deep breath and went inside.

Scabior was led on a camp-bed with his eyes closed and his holey boots still on. Her first thought was to tell him off for getting mud on the sheets but she remembered that she wasn't talking to him. She cleared her throat. He opened one eye and looked at her before sitting upright.

"Yes?" he said.

She held out the package. "From Ellian," she said, keeping her eyes on the boots in her hands. "Where do I put it?"

She heard the bed creak and the sound of his footsteps but refused to look up. It was only when she felt his hand brush over hers that she looked at him. He held onto the package. His hand was touching hers but neither of them made any effort to move.

"He hasn't killed you yet then," he said softly.

Poppy looked down at their hands. "It's not what you think."

"What is it then?"

She pulled her hands away from his and turned her back to him. "I came here to give you your parcel. Now I have to go."

"What has she done to you?" he hissed. "I know it's her!"

Poppy shushed him. "Stop it!" she whispered. "Please."

"She told you she'd kill you, didn't she?"

"No."

"Liar."

"Stop it."

"No!" Scabior dropped the parcel and grabbed Poppy's arm, spinning her around. "I know you don't want him! She's made you do this!"

"Or maybe," said Poppy, shoving him back with as much force as she could muster, "I just don't want you!"

He opened his mouth to say something else but she stormed out of the tent before he could. She felt like bashing her head against the wall. No, scratch that, she felt like bashing Eris' head against the wall. Against several walls.

Calm, thought Poppy. Stay calm. She needed to think calmly. Eris was becoming a very big problem, but she had no idea how to get rid of her. How do you get rid of someone who's always three steps ahead?

x x x x x

It was the night of the full moon and Poppy was more than a little bit frightened. Greyback had gone out the back door and into the garden over two hours ago and still he had not come back in. He should have been somewhere else by now. Somewhere away from her and the rest of the snatchers. She had been there for about six full moons and she knew that Greyback always liked to position himself near villages when the time came.

She should tell the rest of the snatchers. Maybe they didn't know. Of course they didn't know. There was a werewolf in their back garden about to transform at any minute!

It had to be Scabior. Of all the people on the house, Scabior had to be the one she saw first. She considered finding someone else but this was important.

"Scabior!"

He stopped still and turned to look at her. "What?"

"Greyback's in the back garden."

He looked bored. "And?"

"It's a full moon," she said.

"Yeah, I noticed," he said, and he left her standing their in the hallway.

She stood their gaping for a moment before regaining her senses and following him. "What do you mean 'you _know_'? It's a full moon! That means big, scary werewolf in the _back garden_!"

"Poppy, would you stop shoutin', alright? You're givin' me an 'eadache."

She put a hand on her hip. "Explain please. Now."

He shrugged and threw himself down into the sofa. "There's a maze in the back garden."

"No, there ain't- I mean, _isn't.._. Um... Go on..."

"You can't see it unless someone tells you 'bout it."

"So that's where Greyback's gone?"

"Yep."

"What if he finds the way out?"

"'E won't."

"How do you know?"

"You see, Poppy, there's this thing, right, called _magic_..." Poppy glared at him. "I'm surprised 'e didn't tell you. You an' 'im being... You know."

"There is no me and him, okay?"

"I knew there weren't. So why'd you lie?"

Poppy bit her lip and looked over her shoulder. She shook her head.

"'Er?" asked Scabior quietly. Poppy nodded once. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Thanks."

"I mean it." He stood up and stood in front of her. "I'm a snatcher, Poppy. Being sneaky is what I do best."

"I don't want anyone but you," she whispered.

"Good," he said, pulling her towards him. "I 'ate competition."

_**Thank you to scabiorxxx, WobblyJelly, ButlersTheJob, SnitchSnatcher, AtaleOfTwoLoves, leviOsanotleviosaR, SportzDawg, Tomatoes and Bunnies, LizziePixie-Aiko, Blairx6661, RecklessWonder and MaisyB for the lovely reviews. Also, muchos gracias for the birthday messages!**_

_**Please leave a review. And WobblyJelly! Stop liking Eris already!**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

She stared down at the child in front of her. He was so small, with pale skin and blonde hair and and wide blue eyes. Poppy would never forget those eyes for as long as she lived. He wasn't even Hogwarts age. Eight or Nine. They were the only ones down there in the basement. They were stuck. The other Snatchers were upstairs with the five other 'Blood Traitors' who had been hiding in that house. Poppy couldn't move.

Something snapped inside of her as she heard footsteps approaching the basement door. The crate in which the boy was hiding was far too obvious a hiding place so Poppy grabbed hold of his hand and looked around the room. He gripped her hand tightly. Beneath the stairs there was a small space, not big enough for Poppy to fit into but she had no doubt that the boy would. She watched him crawl under just as Eris descended the last spell.

She looked at Poppy, an expectant expression on her face. "Well?"

"There's no-one down here," said Poppy, walking past Eris and towards the stairs. She hoped she hadn't said it too fast or that the tell-tale sign of her heart thumping in her chest wouldn't give her away. It was all she could hear, surely Eris could hear it too?

Eris held up a hand. Poppy froze. She couldn't look at that place under the stairs. Look at Eis. Look at Eris.

She upturned boxes, ripped off cupboard doors, set fire to a pair of old curtains, but she didn't even go near under the stairs. It was only when she started to feel faint that Poppy realised she was holding her breath as she watched. Her hand was gripping so tightly onto the bannister that her knuckles had turned white. She let go and told herself to calm down. Breathe.

Eris turned to look at her. She did her best to smooth the worried lines out of her face and adopt an expression of indifference.

"Ready?" asked Poppy.

Eris gave Poppy a look of pure hatred, no different to any she had given before, and followed her up the stairs.

Two things happened at once:

One, a bang. From above the basement, a similar noise to that of a gun going off.

Two, a scream. Not in pain but in agony. She cried out his name, the last thing she would ever cry.

Then he ran. But Eris was too quick for him and Poppy just quick enough for Eris. Poppy grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She had her wand and Eris had hers and who knew where they were pointing? She wanted to stop Eris. She would hurt the boy. But Eris punched and kicked and bit, and there was so much confusion, and it happened so fast, and Poppy could see his eyes – they were all she could see – and then a flash of green.

His eyes were wide and staring. She closed her eyes but they were still there. Eris had gripped her chin and made her look and acted like a child in the playground as she told her what she had done. You killed him. Look what you've done.

All your fault.

x x x x x

Poppy lent back against the tree. Her head was thumping and she had a bruise on her side from where Eris had punched her, and another on her shin where she had caught Eris' heel, and a mark on her hand from where Eris had bitten her, but none of it hurt as much as when she closed her eyes. And over and over she could hear his name and the pain in his mother's voice. She could still feel his hand clasped tightly around her own.

She didn't hear Scabior approach. She jumped when he sat down next to her, but she could smell him – like rain and grass and cigarettes – and the smell was oddly comforting. It was safety. He put his arm around her, pulling her to him.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered through the darkness. She had no idea what time it was, but she could see the campfire from her position at the edge of the site and it was almost completely burnt out.

He was silent for so long that she thought he hadn't heard her. Then he said, "I 'aven't got any money."

"Money?"

"To give to you. You can't survive without it."

"I don't want money, Scabior. I want you." She linked her fingers through his and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.

"You'd want me to come with you?" he asked in a quiet voice. She couldn't see his face but she could hear confusion in his voice.S

"Of course," she replied. "Then we wouldn't just be surviving. We could live."

"One day," he said eventually, "we'll leave here. We'll get some money from somewhere and just leave."

"We can hide."

"Where?"

"I don't know. But we could live as Muggles."

Scabior laughed quietly. "An' get a cottage?"

Poppy allowed herself the smallest of smiles. "Yes. And grow our own vegetables, and have chickens and dogs and cats."

"Sounds peaceful, don' it?"

"At the moment it sounds just like Heaven."

They stared there until the fire had died down, in complete silence. Everyone else was asleep and, though Poppy was tired too, she didn't feel like she could ever sleep again.

"His name was Henry." She felt Scabior jump beneath her.

"I know," he said. "I know."

"I killed him."

"No," he sad firmly. "No, Poppy. It was Eris. Of course it was Eris."

She knew what he meant. No matter who's wand went of, it was Eris who killed him. But that couldn't stop the guilt or the pain in her chest or the constant tears. Nothing could stop that.

All Poppy knew now was that Eris Grey had better watch her back. Because Poppy would have her revenge, even if it killed her.

_**For LizziePixie-Aiko, SnitchSnatcher, AtaleOfTwoLoves, scabiorxxx, Victoria C. Black and MaisyB. Thank you for the reviews.**_

_**Sorry it's so short. Long one next time!**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

The corridor tipped and lurched her forward. She was running but she had no idea where to. Then it occurred to Poppy that she wasn't running to anywhere. She was running away. There was something behind her.

She turned down another corridor, then another, but everything looked the same. She had no idea where she was. Then a scream. Poppy froze. Such agony. She looked ahead of her and there, right in front, she could see him.

Henry staggered forward. Poppy ran to him, catching him just as he collapsed to the floor. She felt the hot liquid wet her hands and looked down at his lifeless form. Blood covered her front, her arms and her chest, and in her hand she held the knife. Poppy jolted awake.

She sat up, pushing away the hair which had stuck to her forehead. She was shaking, both from fear and the cold perspiration which covered her body. She shook her head and tried to push him out of her mind. The same dream kept haunting her, over and over, every night. Even when she was awake Poppy could never forget his face, or the way his mother had screamed his name.

She sat there until the darkness shifted into sunrise then dragged herself out of the basement and into the bathroom. She washed and dressed in the same sort of haze she had been in for the past two weeks. She was aware of everything that was going on around her but she couldn't find herself caring. She felt some form of comfort with Scabior but their moments alone were few and far between.

Poppy thought about her parents. When she tried to bring them to her mind, she couldn't see their faces nor could she hear their voices. It had been so many months now since she had last seen them. Her mother had dark brown hair, just like Poppy, and her father's hair was black. Yes, she could see that. His hair was thick and curly. He still had all of it, even though he was in his late forties. Her mother's hair, however, was naturally completely grey. Poppy helped dye it every other month. They all had brown eyes, Poppy, her mum and her dad, and olive skin. She put her head in her hands. That was it. She couldn't remember anything else. She wished she had a picture or some form of possession of theirs, but she had nothing.

And then there was Claire. What did Claire look like?

She knew it wasn't Eris' fault but she blamed her anyway. For every pain Poppy had ever suffered, she blamed her.

x x x x x

It was late in the evening but Poppy had nothing better to do. Scabior and Whitaker were upstairs playing Wizard's Chess and O'Connor and Pearse had just left for a night of snatching. She wasn't sure where the rest of them were.

She hadn't made bread in a while and she couldn't quite remember how much flour or salt or sugar she had put in last time but it seemed like the right texture. It was as the dough was becoming too hard to stir that the door to the kitchen opened. She heard the heels on the kitchen floor but didn't look up, emptying the mixture onto the already floured table.

"Where is Scabior?" She heard Eris' voice behind her but didn't respond. Eris flicked her ear. "Are you deaf, Mudblood? I asked you a question. Where is Scabior?"

Poppy sucked in her cheeks. "He's upstairs," she said calmly.

"No, he isn't."

"Then I don't know."

"Yes, you do!" Eris grabbed Poppy by her collar and pulled her upright. "You follow him around like a lost puppy, of course you know! Tell me where he is!"

"I don't know!" she cried. "Let go of me!"

"Tell me!"

"I don't-"

"You have three seconds to tell me where he is, and don't even think about lying." She let Poppy go and began to count slowly. "One."

"I don't know. Why won't you believe me?"

"Two."

Poppy took a step back but Eris took hold of the front of her dress. Her hand was already raised as she said, firmly, "Three."

"He's in the garden!" She said it without thinking, and she felt no remorse. "The maze in the garden!"

She felt the slap before she knew what had happened. Her eyes filled with tears and her head was spinning.

"I told you not to lie to me!" hissed Eris, lifting her hand again.

"I'm not lying," said Poppy. "I'm not!"

"There is no maze!"

"There is, I swear! You just can't see it unless someone tells you about it. Look!"

Eris narrowed her eyes, frowning deeply. She glared at Poppy before turning to glance out of the window. An expression, confusion mixed with the already present anger, crossed her face as she saw, for the first time, the maze.

"What's he doing out there?" she asked, looking back at Poppy.

"He goes there to think," said Poppy. "He only left five minutes ago so he shouldn't be hard to find."

Eris walked slowly towards the door. She looked unsure, and at the last moment turned back to Poppy. "If you're lying," she warned, pointing a finger, "you're going to be very sorry."

She watched her leave. Poppy stood at the kitchen window and watched Eris' shadowy figure creep across the garden. She saw the maze and Eris pause as she reached the threshold. It was as though she knew what was going to happen before it did but her own stubbornness stopped her from turning back. She walked into the maze and disappeared from Poppy's sight.

She waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Poppy heard her scream. Once, twice, three times, four times... She lost count.

The full moon was shining above the garden, illuminating it in a dull glow. Poppy sat down at the kitchen table and began to knead the bread.

x x x x x

They tumbled into the room, Scabior followed by Whitaker. They only briefly glanced at Poppy, still kneading the dough on the table, before another blood-curdling scream filled their ears. They ran into the garden, but there was nothing they could do. They wouldn't go into the maze, Poppy knew that, and sooner or later Greyback would stop playing with his food.

Her hands were raw. She had never stopped kneading the bread from the moment she had started. The other snatchers had stayed outside, but she had no idea what they were doing. It had been hours, surely, for the sun was just starting to rise.

The door opened in front of her and a hand grabbed her arm. She made no effort to push it off as she was pulled down into the basement. Scabior let her go and paced back and forth in front of her, a hand raking through his hair.

"What the 'Ell 'ave you done?" he cried.

She blinked. What did he want her to say? Sorry? Surely not.

"Poppy!" He held onto her shoulders and shook her.

She looked at him for the first time, though her eyes didn't even seem to be focused. "She deserved it," she said softly. "After everything she's done."

He shook his head. "No," he kept saying. "No, Poppy, no. You're not like that. You didn't mean it."

"Of course I mean it," she hissed, snapping out of whatever dream-like state she was in. "I hated her! She was an evil, manipulative murderer, and she deserved to die! And I am not sorry. I will _never_ be sorry."

He leant back against the wall, putting his head in his hands. She watched him carefully but she couldn't see what all the fuss was about. This was Eris. She was evil. She deserved to die.

"For Henry," she whispered.

Scabior moved his hands away from his face, and when he looked at her it was like he was looking at a completely different person. Like he wasn't looking at her at all.

"Scabior..." But then all Hell broke loose.

The morning had broken. Even though the moon had long gone, a roar swept through the house like no man could ever make. Scabior took the stairs two at a time but Poppy stood frozen. Greyback would kill her too.

She heard Greyback call Scabior's name and ran up the stairs, tripping and hitting her knee on one of the steps. When she reached the top she was almost knocked down by Greyback. He grabbed Scabior by the throat, crushing the breath out of him.

"You told her!" he growled. "You IDIOT!"

He punched him so hard that it was a wonder he remained conscious. Poppy couldn't help but cry out, clamping her hand over her mouth to shut herself up. No-one seemed to notice, certainly not Greyback who had proceeded to kick Scabior repeatedly whilst he led dazed on the ground. She bit her lip until she could taste blood. She had to do something. He was killing him and they were all just stood there watching!

Then an alarm rang through the house. The Proteloscope. Greyback froze mid-kick. He looked around at the other snatchers, then at Poppy.

"You," he said to her, pointing a discoloured finger nail. "You stay here."

Ellian came through the front door, whistling a merry tune, unable to walk in a straight line. He paused at the sight in front of him, his mouth hanging open. He looked at each of the snatchers and asked, "Ain't that the pro-whatsit-scope?"

"Ellian stay here with the Mudblood," Greyback yelled, already half-way up the stairs. He didn't have time to argue. The rest of the snatchers followed Greyback, including Scabior who was somehow managing to heal the cuts on his face whilst running.

x x x x x

Poppy shuddered. She smoothed her blonde hair down and took a deep breath, peering round the door at Ellian who was sat reading the Prophet on the living room. She could not, would not, give up now. She had taken one vial of the Polyjuice Potion. The hardest part had been forcing herself into Eris' clothes, but this was necessary. She had made a snap decision, she had had to for she knew she was wasting too much time already. Eris was gone, but Poppy felt nothing. No shame, no grief, no remorse, no happiness. Henry was still dead and she was held prisoner. Nothing had changed.

Ellian was much easier to get information out of than Poppy had expected. He had handed her a small object, which looked just like a compass, and willingly told her the incantation to get to the Proteloscope and the rest of the snatchers. He hadn't questioned her baggy clothes and had been easy to knock out with the lamp.

She yanked out a few of his hairs and drank her second vial of Polyjuice Potion of the day, grateful that she had chosen a pair of extremely baggy pants. Finally, wand in hand, having upturned most of Greyback's room searching for it, she Disapparated.

She couldn't see anything around her but trees but she could hear voices up ahead, loud excited voices. She ran towards them, stopping short before they could see her.

"Check the list, Scabior," she heard Greyback's voice say.

She pushed her way through the trees and into the clearing in which they stood. No-one so much as glanced her way, and she soon understood why. They had much more important things to focus on. She didn't recognise Harry at first but Ron's bright ginger hair and Hermione's bushy curls were easily distinguishable. Ron's mouth was dripping blood, the result of one too many punches from Greyback. There seemed to be something wrong with Harry's face - it was puffy and bloated - but it had to be him. Who else could it be? Hermione looked absolutely petrified as she cringed away from the werewolf.

"Your pretty little friend..." she heard Greyback croon. She could see Hermione shaking from where she stood.

"Easy, Greyback," said Scabior.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet," Greyback was saying but Poppy tuned out. She couldn't care about them now. She had to grab Scabior and leave. But how when he was so clearly distracted?

She edged closer to him, stepping over two figures that were tied beneath O'Connor and Pearse's feet. There was a buzzing about the forest, amplified by the constant jeering of the snatcher at whatever lies Ron, Hermione and Harry were spewing up. She grabbed Scabior by the arm but he swiped her off, turning back to his list of Mudbloods, truants and whoever else was wanted by the Ministry.

"What house are you in at Hogwarts?" Greyback asked Harry.

She turned to watch him squirm on the floor. "Slytherin," he said, without even blinking an eyelid.

"Funny 'ow they all think we wanna 'ear that," said Scabior beside her. "But none of 'em can tell us where the Common Room is..."

She raked a hand through her hair, suppressing a gag at the last minute at the texture of Ellian's greasy hair on her head. She took a deep breath. Her heart was pumping and she was sweating profusely and her ears had just popped. He was too excited to listen to her.

They had found some sword, worth a bag of gold or two, but Scabior's face had fallen. He was staring at the copy of the Daily Prophet he had found inside of their tent, shocked and awed and excited.

"'Ang on a minute, Greyback!" he yelled. "Look at this, in the Prophet! 'Ermione Granger, the Mudblood 'oo is known to be travelling with 'Arry Potter."

Poppy's heart sank - or was it Ellian's? It was like a thousand bees were surrounding her head. They couldn't catch Harry, they couldn't! They'd kill him and they'd win and that would be it. There'd never be any escape. It was Harry. There was no denying it. They found glasses. And the picture. It was definitely Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, the picture confirmed that.

They kept discussing it in raised voices. The Ministry? You-Know-Who? Where do we take him? No, not the Ministry. Not You-Know-Who. The Malfoys. Take them to the Malfoys. She tried one last attempt to grab Scabior but it was too late - they had already begun to Disapparate.

They landed in a lane surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges. At the end of the lane there stood a pair of gates and beyond that, Malfoy Manor, grander than any house Poppy had ever seen before. She followed behind Greyback, who had hold of Harry and Ron and Hermione, all three bound together.

Whittaker shifted the sword in his hands and rattled on the gates. "How do we get in?" he asked, turning back to the rest of the snatchers. "They're locked, Greyback, I can't – blimey!"

The gates swung forward. Greyback pulled the three further towards the house, O'Connor dragging his two prisoners, who she know realised to be Dean Thomas and an unknown Goblin, behind. Light blinded her momentarily and she heard a woman's voice speak but she couldn't hear what she was saying. They were going to summon the Dark Lord. Poppy was, quite understandably, frightened. If the Polyjuice Potion wore off, which it was bound to do eventually, she was as good as dead.

They were taken to the drawing room by Narcissa Malfoy, mother of Draco who had been summoned to verify the identity of the prisoners. Poppy had never met either of Draco's parents before but she soon found that he looked an awful lot like his father, Lucius, also present in the room.

Everyone was watching Draco intently as he scrutinised Harry's face. Poppy edged back to the side of the room to stand next to Scabior. She had to nudge him twice before he so much as looked at her. Finally he turned, a frown appearing on his face as he tried to figure out exactly why Ellian was not supposed to be there.

"What you doin' 'ere?" he hissed. "Where's P- What've you done with the Mudblood?"

"Scabior," Poppy began, but Scabior grabbed hold of her arm.

"Where is she?" he growled, oblivious to everything that was going on the background.

"It's me," she said, firmly but quietly. "Scabior, it's me. Poppy."

His face twisted into revulsion and she thought for a second that he might hit her.

She pulled out her wand and showed it to him. "My name is Poppy James," she whispered. "I'm seventeen years old. Gryffindor. My best friend is Claire and my parents are both dead. This morning I killed Eris Grey, and no matter how much I think about it I still won't be sorry, yet it changes nothing. Henry is still dead and he's never coming back. Killing her wont bring him or his family any form of comfort. They don't even know. I need you to come with me. Now. I don't want to leave without you, but I won't stay if you do. This is our chance, Scabior."

Scabior was speechless. His mouth hung open with no words to say. He seemed to be only capable of making small noises, beginning words but then stopping like he had forgotten what he was about to say. Eventually he nodded and took hold of her hand.

"STOP!"

They both jumped and looked up at the scene before them. Bellatrix Lestrange had appeared. Poppy recognised her immediately from her constant appearances in the Daily Prophet. Two years ago she had escaped from Azkaban, murdered Harry's Godfather and taken part in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. She was in the process of calling the Dark Lord, her hand hovering over the grotesque Mark on her skin, but her eyes were fixed on the sword in Whitaker's hands, shocked and horrified.

"What is that?" she demanded of Whitaker, taking a step towards him.

Whitaker looked put out, tightening his hands around the hilt. "Sword," he said shortly.

"Give it to me," she snapped.

"It's not yorn, Missus," he replied, "it's mine. I reckon I found it."

Bellatrix aimed her wand, with a bang and a flash of red, hitting Whitaker with a stunning spell. Scabior dropped Poppy's hand and drew his own wand, poitning it back at her.

"What d'you think you're playing at, woman?" he yelled, but Bellatrix Lestrange had gone mad, sending stunning spell after stunning spell. Poppy raised her own wand but she was knocked down by one of the snatchers, hitting her head on a small table as she fell, and she remembered no more.

_**For SnitchSnatcher, scabiorxxx, Nelle07, ATaleOfTwoLoves, MaisyB and TheSnatcher. Thanks for the reviews.**_


	21. Chapter 21

**Twenty-One**

She wasn't dead. It was the first thing she thought as she opened her eyes. The pain in the side of her head assured her that she was still alive. She sat up slowly, the courtyard in which she lay spinning around her. She held a hand to her forehead, pleased to find no blood present, just tender skin showing all the signs of a newly formed bruise.

The snatchers lay stunned around her. They had been dumped out here but she had no idea when they would come back to finish them off.

Poppy looked around her. Her eyes found Scabior's face and she crawled over to him, shaking him by the shoulders. He didn't move. She shook him again. His head shifted, revealing a pool of blood underneath.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no."

Then a wand was pressed into her back and she froze.

"Drop it," said a familiar voice, lazy, arrogant.

She dropped the wand and felt the pressure removed from her back. She turned around to look at him. Draco's face fell.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes wide and horrified. "How did you get in?"

"I- I'm with them," she tried to explain. "I came with them. Please, Draco-"

"Shut up. Stop talking. You shouldn't be here."

"Please," she whispered. "I don't- I don't want to die."

He stared at her then glanced quickly back at the house, thinking. She could see his hand shaking as it gripped his wand, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow.

"Go," he said quietly. "Go. Just go, quickly."

She picked up her wand and held onto Scabior's arm.

"No," said Draco. "Leave him. Go. Just you."

"Please," she said. "Please, I need him. Please, Draco. Please..."

He didn't say anything more and she didn't wait around for him to either.

She could think of nowhere else to go but the house. They landed in the living room, dark and silent in the late hours of night. She didn't know the extent of the damage to his head nor any idea as to how to fix it. It had stopped bleeding, which she took as a good sign. She hoped it meant the wound was only superficial. He would have one Hell of a headache in the morning but no permanent damage.

She poured Dittany of his wound. She was sure that there was a more precise way of applying it but she didn't have time to waste right now. She waited. Five, ten, fifteen minutes... The wound seemed to glue itself back together. Poppy wiped at the blood caked into his hair with a damp cloth. No more was produced, but what if there was damage beneath the surface? What if he was bleeding around his brain or what if there was swelling or something had been ruptured?

She buried her head in his chest and prayed, for his soul and for hers. Please God, let him live. It was the only thing she could think to do. She sobbed quietly into his shirt. She could feel his shallow breathing beneath her but it meant nothing. She needed professional help. No. Any form of help was needed.

Ellian.

She had left him in the living room - clearly he wasn't still there. He wasn't downstairs at all. She ran upstairs, shouting his name and banging on doors.

"Ellian! Ellian! Ell-"

She was knocked back into the wall, hands pressing into her shoulders.

"Where is she?" a voice growled.

She blinked, dazed, taking a few minutes to figure out what was going on.

"Where is she?" Ellian repeated.

"What?" she cried. "Who?"

"Eris!" Ellian hissed, more firmly. "Where is she?"

Poppy shook her head. "She's not here. She's- She's dead."

Ellian let go of her shoulders and took a step back. In the pale light of the morning she could see the bruise on his forehead where she'd hit him with the lamp. It seemed like so long ago now, yet she knew it was only yesterday.

"What?" he said quietly.

"He killed her," said Poppy. "Greyback killed her. It was an accident."

"She's dead... Bloody Hell. Where is everyone then?"

"They've gone," she whispered, and for a moment she actually believed it. She didn't think they would ever come back - why would they? They had caught the Golden Trio. They would be rich. There would be no need for snatching ever again.

"Ellian," she said. "Ellian, Scabior needs you. He's downstairs. He won't move."

Scabior was pale and cold. Ellian checked first for a pulse, leaning up on his knees to study Scabior's still form.

"There's a pulse," he said. "What happened?"

"I don't know. It was that Bellatrix Lestrange, she's insane. She attacked us and-"

"Attacked you?"

"Yes. I was knocked out and I think the rest were stunned-"

"Stunned?"

"Yes!" she hissed, his interruptions becoming an irritation.

Ellian looked down at Scabior. Poppy could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes. He held his wand over Scabior's chest and said, "Enervate."

His eyes snapped open. It was all Poppy could do not hug him right in front of Ellian, but she managed to control herself. He seemed delirious, his lips moving, forming the same word over and over: "Poppy."

Ellian frowned. "Who's Poppy?"

She shrugged a shoulder quickly, not trusting herself to actually say anything. Ellian grabbed Scabior by the shoulders and shook him. Not the most ceremonious of awakenings, Poppy thought, but it certainly did the the trick. Scabior rubbed the back of his head, looking between Ellian and Poppy.

"What 'appened?" he asked, his eyes fixed on Poppy.

"Dunno, mate," said Ellian. "I've been here the whole time. I always miss all the-"

He was cut off by the sound of the front door slamming shut. Poppy stood up, Scabior behind her. Not good, she thought. Not good at all.

Just one look at Greyback's face was enough to give Ellian the hint to make himself scarce. There was a fire burning inside his bruised eyes; his face was raw and bloody. He spat on the living room floor.

"There's something going on between you two," he said calmly, so calmly that it frightened Poppy more than if he had shouted, "and I don't like it."

"Greyback, there ain't-"

"Prove it!" he barked. "You say there's nothing going on, so why don't you prove it?"

"What? 'Ow?"

"Kill her," he said, quietly at first.

"You can't be serious."

"I said _kill her_!" He grabbed Scabior by his shirt and pushed him away from Poppy. He aimed his wand at Scabior as Scabior drew his own.

She watched in some strange haze. It was as though she had inhabited someone else's body and she was just watching from the sidelines. But she wasn't. She was there. And this was her death.

She squeezed her eyes tightly together. She could hear Greyback yelling but she made no sense of it. There was the faint outline of her mother's face, the whisper of her father's voice, the echo of Claire's laugh...

Perhaps if she had kept her eyes open she would have seen how violently Scabior's hand had shook as he aimed his wand at her. Perhaps she would have seen the twitch of his wand, away from Poppy, further towards Greyback, as he prepared to utter the incantation. Perhaps. But even then, perhaps it would have made no difference.

He took a deep breath but she no longer remembered how to breathe. She pressed her lips together in a tight line and clenched her fists.

"_Avada_-!"

"Enough!"

She couldn't bring herself to even open one eye but something told her that this was not the end. Nothing had changed. She was not dead yet.

"What?" She heard Scabior's voice.

"Enough," repeated Greyback. No, she thought, definitely not dead.

"Next time," Greyback said, lowering his wand and turning his back on the both of them, "you better not hesitate."

She heard the clatter of Scabior's wand. She let out a strangled sob, falling down to her knees. She felt his hand on her arm but she pushed it off. It gave her new energy; adrenaline filled her veins.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled. "Don't you _dare_ touch me!"

She couldn't bring herself to look at him. She knew that if she did the urge to claw her nails down his face might become to great. Her only sanctuary was in the basement, but still he didn't get it. He didn't understand. She didn't want to see him. He wouldn't leave her alone.

"Poppy," he kept saying. He kept trying to touch her arm, give her reassurance.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Leave me alone!"

"Please, if you'd just let me explain-"

"There's nothing to explain!" she spat. "Nothing at all! Eris was right! She truly was right. She told me you only put up with me because you thought there was a chance I might _put out_ in the end, and she was right, dammit! She was _right_. And I _killed_ her for it... But she was right."

She couldn't see through the tears, nor focus through the pain in her chest.

"Poppy-"

"GET OUT!" She screamed at him, punched at him, kicked at him until he got it. He finally left her alone.

As she sat there in the damp basement, she fingered the knife she had stolen all those weeks ago. It had seemed like the right thing to do, and she had felt no remorse when watching the man die. That man, Henry, Leo de Valenta, Eris, her parents... They had all died because of her. It was all her fault.

She threw the knife across the room. It scattered across the floor and disappeared into dark shadows as she brought her knees up to her chest and wept.

_**Thanks to Scabiorxxx, SportzDawg and WobblyJelly for the reviews.**_


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